


Come Tomorrow I'll be in the Ocean

by Steerpike13713, Zappy



Series: Mila Verse [1]
Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Adoption, Families of Choice, Family Feels, Fantastic Racism, Father-Daughter Relationship, Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-01-30 15:10:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12656016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steerpike13713/pseuds/Steerpike13713, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zappy/pseuds/Zappy
Summary: While down on Bajor playing detective, Julian catches the eye of a small girl who is very curious as to what he and Garak are doing. He decides to say hello. It's about to change his world. (Sisko just wants an easy day.)





	1. i'm an atom in a sea of nothing

It had not, by any stretch of the imagination, been a good week. Quark being shot, the re-opening of a five-year-old murder case, Vaatrik Pallra’s arrest, and the strange new tension between his first officer and chief of security, the old tensions all of this had dug up...it was almost a relief to get back to his office and find nothing more serious waiting for him than the usual reams of paperwork. ‘Almost’ being the operative word.

Yet more security files, mercifully unrelated to the Vaatrik case - three different search warrants for Quark’s bar, for searches Ben was pretty sure had already been carried out, a few records of arrests, one or two drunk and disorderlies, nothing out of the ordinary he didn’t already know about - and then reports from engineering - yet more breakages and cases of Federation and Cardassian systems interfering with each other, as there had been every week since he’d arrived on Deep Space Nine - and the sciences team’s reports on Ensign Pazlar’s stellar cartography expeditions in the Gamma Quadrant. So far, so expected. Then, about halfway through the files, he stumbled on something he didn’t expect.

Starfleet, it was joked in the service, had forms for everything. This was, by and large, true. Thanks to a long and rather peculiar history, there were Starfleet forms for everything from meeting a god or godlike entity to being stranded in or around the twentieth century. Ben still wasn’t quite sure what it was about the twentieth century in particular, but he’d heard too many stories to argue that that particular set of forms weren’t any practical use. The form that crossed his desk now was not one of the more esoteric Starfleet offered. Indeed, under normal circumstances he’d have been quite delighted to see it. In this instance, however, he was forced to wonder if it wasn’t some kind of _incredibly_ short-sighted practical joke.

Form number 5098, requesting permission for custody of a child on base, and form number 5083, request for larger quarters due to additional dependents. Application of adoption attached and signed by _Lieutenant Doctor Julian Bashir_. Ben stared. He reread the forms. He stared some more. Finally, he spoke.

“... _what?_ ”

It took him rereading the forms and signature _again_ before he pressed his comm-badge and ordered a meeting with the doctor, and it had taken that long to be sure that this wasn’t some sort of elaborate forgery. Then, he opened the attachment.

The child’s name leapt out at him almost at once - Tozhat Teyma. It took a moment for him to realise why. ‘Teyma’, the word for ‘suffering’, in standard-dialect Bajoran. He blinked. That...had to be a typo, didn’t it? Or maybe it wasn’t, looking at the ‘Species’ section. Bajoran-Cardassian hybrid. Six years old, female, born at the Tozhat Resettlement Centre in 2364. Biological parents had not come forward, leaving the child a ward of the Bajoran government. Formerly a ward of the Bajoran government, anyway - going by the signatures on the adoption papers, the Bajoran government had no objection whatsoever to giving up their guardianship of the girl.

It had been...maybe not the worst thing about the Occupation, but only because the worst had plumbed the depths of what anyone wanted to believe sentient beings were capable of. Children born under occupation rarely led happy lives, but the children of both sides had it worst of all. The name was bad enough by itself, but the story it suggested was uglier still. Bajoran ‘comfort women’ rarely had any ability to refuse Cardassian advances. Probably Tozhat Teyma had resulted from that same familiar story. What _had_ the doctor been thinking? If he had been thinking, that was - Bashir was impulsive enough at the best of times - and if he hadn’t, Ben would have to make him, because this was not a commitment to be entered into on a whim, no matter how well-intentioned.

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

Ben looked up. Doctor Bashir was hovering in the doorway, looking as if it was taking a great deal of effort to hide just how nervous he was. Good, first-time parents should be nervous or else they had no idea what they were in for.

“Yes,” Ben said, straightening up. “Would you like to explain this?”

He slid the PADD across his desk as Doctor Bashir sat down. He knew the young doctor was intimidated by him, only moderately quelled by the year of service together, and it was with a small bit of satisfaction to see the man gulp at Ben’s tone.

“...well,” Bashir said, sounding like a man trying to bob for apples in a piranha tank. “I...er...would’ve thought that was obvious.” He nodded at the PADD. “There isn’t another parent for her to stay with while I’m on postings, I’ll be living here for the foreseeable future anyway, so there’s no difficulty with the disruption of moving around to follow my work, and I can’t exactly adopt her and then ask her to stay in the situation I was trying to get her out of.”

“I am _very_ aware of what the forms actually request, doctor. I was giving you a chance to tell me why this sudden decision.” Ben folded his hands together and leaned back in his chair.

Bashir bit his lip for a second, and then seemed to collect himself. “I...wouldn’t call it sudden, sir. I’ve been thinking it over for more than a month now, and this really did seem like the only way forward. I don’t think it’ll cause any trouble with the Bajorans, if that’s what this is about - they approved the paperwork in a matter of days-”

“A _month_?” Ben dropped his hands to the desk and leaned closer, “Why am I just hearing of this now? Doctor, we are here under the Prime Directive still-”

Bashir’s eyebrows looked as if they were in danger of disappearing into his hairline. “Er- Commander? Since we came here, we’ve involved ourselves in a great deal of local politics, you’ve become...some sort of minor deity, I don’t exactly know what ‘Emissary of the Prophets’ really covers, and then there was Rugal last month. I’ve done my best to clear this with the Bajoran provisional government, they seem to be all in favour...I really don’t see how I _could_ be breaking the Prime Directive, under the circumstances.”

Ben pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a sigh, “I didn’t _plan_ on becoming the ‘Emissary’, and Rugal’s situation started on the _station_. Every time we’ve dealt with politics it’s been on the station itself or by invitation, we do not have the right to interfere in anything otherwise. Adopting a Bajoran child, even a half-Bajoran, is something else entirely - I’m amazed the Bajorans even allowed you to apply!” He drew in a breath. “I am assuming you met when you and Mr Garak went to investigate Rugal’s origins at the Resettlement Center?”

Bashir nodded, looking slightly sheepish. “Er...yes, sir.”

“I thought as much. Now, if you’d _fathered_ a child with a Bajoran partner, there’d be nothing to discuss, but choosing to take a Bajoran-raised child off Bajor, when you have no prior connection to them or to Bajor-”

“With all due respect, _sir_ ,” Bashir said, in a tone that just skirted the edge of insubordination, “If the Bajoran government have no objection, the Prime Directive angle can hardly be seen as a major issue for Starfleet.”

Ben glared at him. “You’re right,” he said quietly. “It isn’t. But this is the first I’ve heard of any of this and that is certainly reason enough to be concerned.”

“I...I wasn’t sure the application would go through until quite recently, sir,” Bashir admitted, “And...well, to be honest I wasn’t sure Starfleet would approve, and I didn’t see that it was really their business. I mean...other people in the service have children all the time without having to apply for permission first.”

“Generally those other people are considerate enough to give nine months’ warning before they need larger quarters.” Ben said dryly. Bashir winced.

“Not all of them - Counsellor Troi on the _Enterprise_ had a child in less than a month once, even if that was the result of alien interference and a really appalling disregard for her autonomy on the part of the alien in question. And there are other species with very short gestation periods, Therbians, for example-”

Ben glared. Bashir shut up. “The _point_ , doctor, is it’s a common courtesy.”

Bashir shifted uncomfortably. “...right. I’m sorry, sir. I...ah...hadn’t known it hadn’t become common knowledge. I’ve hardly kept it a secret. Most of the medical staff already know…”

With a deep sigh, Ben ran a hand over his face, “Doctor, despite what I may have people believe, I do not know everything that goes on this station. And if it _were_ common knowledge, I would’ve had the Major in here at least once to object. To get to the heart of the matter, I’m curious to know how your stance on families in the service changed. And that you won’t change your mind again once the hard work starts.”

Bashir actually bristled at that, which Ben chose to take as a good sign. “Have I ever given you the impression that I object to hard work, sir?” he asked, rather stiffly.

“In a medical capacity, no, but a family is an entirely different form of hard work and I’m not sure you’ve thought this through.”

That Bashir would be raising this child alone was part of it. He could, certainly, and there would be allowances, but even with those allowances, Ben remembered how hard it had been balancing his career and Jake had been in those early days even with Jennifer to help him - how difficult it still was, without Jennifer, even now Jake was getting old enough to take care of himself - and he hadn’t been the only source of medical care for over a thousand people. More worrying was the fleeting nature of what connections Bashir did have. Brief, shallow flings with what seemed to be half the station, no real connections back home, no _permanence_. What would someone like that do, confronted with a bond that couldn’t be so easily discarded when interest began to pall?

Bashir’s expression then was positively mutinous. “Plenty of people become parents who shouldn’t,” he said shortly. “I don’t intend to be one of them.”

“Well, then,” Ben said, leaning back a little in his chair and picking the baseball up off his desk to toy with it between his hands. “Perhaps you can begin by explaining how this started? I wasn’t under the impression you and Mr Garak had much time at the Resettlement Centre to get to know any of the residents.”

“We didn’t, really,” Bashir admitted. “Mila - she prefers to be called Mila - she…” a shy, bright smile flashed across his face then. “Honestly, she rather ambushed us…”


	2. oh, today i'm just a drop of water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Garak fixes a computer, Julian makes a friend, and together they solve a mystery. It only causes Julian to have more questions, and a drive to see someone smile.

It was brilliant daylight in Tozhat Province, which at least explained why Garak had chosen to drag Julian up in the dead of night and force him into the most uncomfortable conversation imaginable with his commanding officer in order to lay hands on a runabout at this hour. The Resettlement Centre was just on the edge of the provincial capital, bright and warm and surrounded by greenery, and looked far less grim than the nightmarish Dickensian situation Julian had found himself imagining on the runabout on the way over. If anything, it looked like a better place in which to grow up than some of the places Julian had lived when he was younger - his father’s doomed attempts at farming sprang particularly to mind - but that didn’t mean anything. He was naive, yes, so he’d been told...but he knew enough to know that a pleasant surface wasn’t the same thing as a good situation where it mattered. He wasn’t precisely sure what the evidence Garak was after was - Garak had never said on the runabout on the way over - but Julian’s imagination was almost worse than knowing for sure, when he remembered half of what that freighter captain had said.

The tired woman sitting at a table with two Bajoran children was rather at odds with that impression, admittedly, even if her face had gone closed-off and impassive at the sight of Garak. Julian couldn’t particularly blame her for that, under the circumstances.

“Excuse me,” he said, “Is this the Tozhat Resettlement Centre?”

“Yes,” the woman said curtly, her eyes not leaving Garak.

“Ah.” Julian nodded, trying to look more in command of the situation than he felt. “I’m Doctor Bashir, from Federation Command at Deep Space Nine,” he went on, as Garak wandered off, apparently thinking his job was done. “I've been trying to find some information on a Cardassian war orphan who was apparently placed for adoption here.”

The woman gave a faint little nod. “Yes, the Bajorans opened their hearts to many abandoned children.”

It was, Julian told himself firmly, probably very cynical of him to wonder just what was actually meant by that. Bajor had been hurt by the Cardassians, yes, and they didn’t need to forgive, and no-one would ever ask them to, but at the same time...Rugal had been a child when the Occupation ended. He bore no responsibility, and if the accusations that had been made against his Bajoran adoptive parents were truthful, they’d made him suffer for it anyway. How common a situation was that, on Bajor?

“The boy's name is Rugal, and the Bajoran who adopted him is named Proka Migdal,” he supplied, trying to ignore the glare the woman was shooting in Garak’s direction.

She shook her head. “I don't recognise either of the names. What was it you were trying to find out about them?”   
How was it, Julian wondered, that he’d managed to get all the way out here without ever finding that out? Of course, from there things snowballed - what Garak had been  _ thinking  _ with some of those comments was something Julian desperately wanted to ask him and knew he’d never get a straight answer to - but it had ended with Garak mentioning his ‘dabbling’ with isolinear sub-processors, and if that was really a hobby, Julian was going to acquire a hat for the sole purpose of eating it.

Still, with Garak occupied over by the computers there wasn’t really much to do but pace and wait, once the woman who ran the centre - Deela, it turned out - had led them up to the computer room and left them to it. Garak was still trying to get the computer started when he spotted a pair of bright brown eyes peering out from under a desk in the far corner. He looked back at Garak, who was apparently entirely absorbed in the workings of the Centre computer, and decided that, on balance, Garak probably wasn’t going to do anything particularly nefarious in the next five minutes, and dropped down into a crouch a safe distance from the desk.

“It’s all right,” he said into the quiet, “We’re not going to hurt you.” There was a noise a bit like  _ meep  _ from under the desk. Julian pressed on. “No, really - look, I know he’s Cardassian,” he added, “But he’s…” What could he say at this point? ‘Not one of those Cardassians’ was first of all inaccurate and second of all rude. ‘Not that scary really’ would just be patronising. “He isn’t going to hurt you,” he repeated, “And even if he was, I wouldn’t let him.”

Not that he could really ‘let’ Garak do anything, as the snort he heard from over by the computer made entirely clear, but it seemed to work well enough. The brown eyes blinked, and then a small hand slid up and under the desk to pull itself out.

The girl was about six, dressed in a dull red-brown dress with a darker-brown sort of smock over the top, with sandy-beige scales, a soft ‘spoon’ - Julian still hadn’t been able to find out anything like a scientific term for that - in the centre of her forehead and clear neck ridges. It took a moment for him to spot the nose ridges, a moment longer than it took to smile.

“My name’s Julian,” he said, with the reassuring smile he’d developed in paediatrics rotations at the Academy and during his residency afterwards.

The response was barely a mumble.

He cupped a hand over his ear, a little theatrically, just to make her smile, “Sorry? What was that?”

“...suffering,” the girl muttered, staring miserably down at her feet. “M’name.”

Julian blinked. “...well, it can’t be that bad,” he tried, “I mean, my middle name is ‘Subatoi’, which I’m pretty sure was my mother’s revenge for everything I put her through before I was born-”

The girl shook her head, her fingers twisting in the skirt of her smock and Julian felt an awful, sinking feeling in his stomach. It wasn’t- Surely, no-one would be blind, cruel or stupid enough to give a child a name like that-

Except, of course, that they were here investigating a case that hinged on people being all three, if his suspicions were correct, and the girl was still staring down at her feet, looking sick and miserable enough to confirm the worst of them.

“What were you doing down there?” he asked, pulling out another old trick from the paediatrics handbook in his tone - really, he was starting to regret that he’d got out of the habit of carrying sweets to hand out to children after examinations since he’d come to Deep Space Nine.

The girl stared down at her feet and scuffed the toe of one boot along the floor. She didn’t seem to want to answer.

“You’re not in trouble,” Julian said hastily, “I just want to know, ok? Has-” he paused, considered the situation. “Someone said something, didn’t they?” he said, soft and soothing, the tone that tended to work on Molly whenever she had to get a check-up, “Were you hiding in here, S-” He was not going to address a child as ‘Suffering’. “Stardust,” he settled on instead, picking the word out of the air. “It’s all right if you were,” he added, “I won’t tell if you don’t want me to.”

The girl gave him a beady-eyed, suspicious look at that. Julian responded with his most harmless expression. He wasn’t altogether sure it worked.

“What’re  _ you  _ doing here?” she said, sounding sulky.

Julian paused, “We’re trying to find out about a boy who used to live here,” he said honestly. “I don’t think you’re old enough to remember him.”

The girl scowled. “I can remember! I remember  _ lots  _ of things!”

“I’m sure you do!” Julian said quickly, “But probably not this - he’s older than you are. You might not have been here when he left.” He paused, and added. “How long have you been here?”

“Born here,” the girl mumbled. “Hatched.”

A cold shock went down Julian’s spine. “You mean to say you were named ‘Suffering’ by the people  _ here _ ?”

So much for ‘opened their hearts to abandoned children’, he thought savagely. Whatever the circumstances of the child’s conception might’ve been, there had been no call to take it out on her.

“Don’t know.” The girl was staring down at her boots again now. She didn’t look precisely ill-cared-for, Julian had to admit. She wasn’t starving, at least, her clothes were clean and mended, and her health seemed reasonable enough, or as close to it as he could tell without closer examination. All the same, there were other forms of harm than outright abuse or deprivation, and the marks they left went just as deep.

“Is there anything else people can call you?”

The girl shook her head, then went still, considering. “I liked ‘Stardust’,” she offered, “But it’s not a  _ proper  _ name.”

“‘Suffering’ isn’t a proper name either,” Julian said consolingly, “A lot less of one than ‘Stardust’, I’d say - lots of people are named after stars. You could ask to be called something else, if you wanted. I’m sure people would understand if you did.”

Then again, if they were the ones who’d called her that in the first place, maybe they wouldn’t. It was difficult, sometimes, to believe in people out here, when the cruelties of the Occupation had made so many people cruel themselves.

The girl shrugged her shoulders and looked away from him, then froze. Curious to know what made her freeze again, Julian looked over his shoulder to see that they’d caught Garak’s eye.

“It’s all right,” he repeated, “He’s...a friend.”

The girl - Stardust, why not? - did not look convinced.

Garak offered a wide smile that Julian felt was more for show than felt, but that was true of most of Garak’s expressions.

“He’s just here to help me find out about Rugal - that’s the older boy we’re looking for,” Julian went on. “His family have been worried about him.” Truthfully, Julian didn’t know what either of Rugal’s families thought of all this, except that he was inclined to be suspicious of Proka Migdal after hearing about his behaviour from a third party. “We just need to fix your computer before we can find out more.”

Stardust’s expression brightened. “Can I do anything?” she asked, “No-one ever lets me look at the computers.”

Julian shot a helpless look at Garak, who made a low, choky sort of hissing noise that sounded like the Cardassian version of clearing his throat.

“I’m afraid it’s very boring at this stage,” Garak supplied, “And we’ll mostly be looking at records and such when we do have the information. Isn’t that right, doctor?”

“Yes,” Julian agreed, seizing on this excuse like a drowning man latching onto a passing shark. “Absolutely. Incredibly boring. How far through are you?” he added, looking back at Garak.

“Not quite there yet, doctor, but I do believe I’ll be able to make it work soon enough.”

When Julian looked back at Stardust, she wasn’t sulking, the way he might’ve done at that age if denied permission to help with something he didn’t know to be far beyond his abilities. Not that there had been much, at six, that Julian hadn’t known to be beyond him - his father had made that abundantly clear. Instead, she looked...resigned, maybe slightly fearful, her fingers twisting again in her smock.

“Why is he a friend?” Stardust blurted out and then looked worried, hunching in on herself and seeming to wait for something.

Julian blinked. “Well, we have lunch together every week and talk,” he tried, not quite sure how to define the whys of his friendship with Garak. If anyone had asked him a year ago, he’d have said it was because hardly anyone else on the station would put up with him for longer than an evening, but he had other friends now, and yet still he went to Garak every week to argue over novels and plays and poetry. “He’s very clever,” he settled on at last, trying very hard to ignore the feeling of Garak’s eyes on him. “And...well, I suppose I just like spending time with him. Don’t...don’t you have anyone like that?”

“Not really. Sometimes Asha lets me sit with her, but I mostly play by myself. What do you talk about? I thought...I mean, he’s  _ Cardassian _ .” She almost hissed the last word, and out of the corner of his eye, Julian thought he saw Garak stiffen.

“I know he is,” Julian said, trying to keep his voice level. It wasn’t really Stardust’s fault, he reminded himself. How much of this sort of thing had she heard? How much had been directed at her in her short lifetime? Growing up half-Cardassian on Bajor...it sounded like the hardest thing in the world. “But...well, it’s complicated. But people are just people - some of them are awful people, but that’s true in every species. There have been some pretty awful humans in the past, and probably some pretty awful Bajorans.” That was...probably simple enough, for a six-year-old. Any more and he’d be getting into dangerous ground. “Sometimes...people act terribly,” he admitted. “But that’s not because of what they are, it’s just...what they choose to do. And Garak...well, all right, he’s a bit crotchety sometimes, and he likes to make fun of my taste in books, and I don’t know about everything he’s ever done...but he’s never been anything but friendly to me.”

“So...that makes him a friend?” Even to Julian’s ears, that sounded sceptical.

He shrugged. “I think so. He’s probably going to be sarcastic about that later, but-” he shrugged. Garak being sarcastic was really just a base condition of knowing Garak. Expecting otherwise was like expecting space not to be black.

Stardust paused and frowned a bit, like she was thinking if she should ask or not, “Is that what you are? Human?”

Julian blinked. “What- Yes. Er...do I not look human?”

Behind him, he heard Garak made an amused noise in his throat.

“I dunno, I’ve never seen a real one before. Do they all look like you?” Stardust’s big brown eyes stared at him as if trying to memorize it.

“...a bit,” Julian hedged. “We tend to vary a lot as a species. No nose ridges, rounded ears, blood a few shades darker than Bajoran…” There were other differences too, but those were mostly internal. He forced a smile. “Maybe if Bajor does join the Federation, you’ll get to meet more of us.”

A distinct derisive noise from Garak at that, and the hum of a computer at work behind him.

“I should probably go,” Julian admitted, glancing back at Garak and the computer for a moment before looking back at Stardust, “We haven’t got much time to get our information together. Sorry,” he added, just because Stardust looked so  _ dejected  _ at that.

“Do I have to go?” she asked, looking wary now.

Julian stopped. On the one hand, she’d been hiding under a desk when they came in, and other than this ‘Asha’ person, it didn’t seem like anyone here was that kind to her. On the other hand, this was probably classified work...on the other other hand, Stardust was six, and on Bajor, and probably wouldn’t be able to give them away even if she knew what they were up to and for some reason wanted to involve herself in a custody case for an older boy she’d never met before.

“I don’t see why you should have to,” he settled on at last. “Just...I’d be very grateful if you could keep anything you see a secret for me. We’re not really supposed to be here.” This last in a stage whisper, that made Stardust give a shy little grin.

He had a shadow, when he went over to join Garak and found the console fully operational, but it was easy enough to pretend he didn’t notice that Stardust was trailing him, and he wasn’t sure if actively acknowledging her wouldn’t just make her even more nervous, at this stage.

“I continue to underestimate you, Garak,” he said warmly, leaning over to look at the screen.

Garak didn’t look up. “Oh, it’s no more difficult than sewing on a button, actually. Excuse me,” he added, springing up to peer over at the side-screen Julian had been leaning on. He peered at it, then tugged off the eyepiece he’d been wearing and thrust it into Julian’s hands.

Julian lifted it to the light and raised his eyebrows. “You carry this everywhere with you, do you?” he asked, giving Garak a sideways smile.

“A simple tailoring tool,” Garak replied - lied, Julian was certain - as Julian lifted the device to his eye to peer through it. “You’d be surprised how often someone needs their pants let out-” Julian suppressed a snort, and glanced down at Stardust, who was also eyeing the eyepiece suspiciously. Surreptitiously, just on a whim, he passed it down to her. She turned it over twice in her hands, frowning at it, then lifted it to her own eye. It was too big to fit neatly inside her ridges the way it had Garak’s, and made her eye look, if anything, even more enormous distorted through it. “Oh,” Garak said suddenly beside him, “It’s not there.”

Julian stopped dead. “What’s not there?”

Garak’s mouth twisted, abruptly all business again. “Rugal’s name, his father’s name - none of it.”

“You managed to find eight-year-old files that quickly?” Julian enquired, trying not to smirk too obviously. If Garak expected anyone to believe the ‘tailor’ story, he wasn’t nearly as wily as he liked to make out.

“Oh, it’s simply a question of knowing what you’re looking for, doctor- Excuse me,” he added, brushing past Julian again back to his original seat. “Now, it's either been misfiled, or under a wrong name, or this is entirely the wrong relocation centre,” Garak went on.

Julian straightened a bit to glare at him, “I’m not going to another district until I know-”

“That won’t be necessary,” Garak cut him off, producing a data rod, “We can access the files of this entire province from here and download them onto a data clip.”

Julian frowned, “That’ll be thousands of- What is it, Stardust?”

The little girl was tugging on his elbow again. When he looked around, there was another girl there. Older, fully-Cardassian by the look of her, and wearing an expression of terrible hope. Her eyes were fixed on Garak. There was another Cardassian child lingering in the door behind her, and a small crowd of Bajorans as well.

“That’s Asha,” Stardust whispered to him, looking upset. “She was meant to be watching me.”

Julian nodded, and was about to speak, when Asha beat him to it.

“Excuse me, sir,” she said, eyes bright. “Have you come to take us back to Cardassia?”

Julian’s heart sank. Of all the natural, awful assumptions to make. The look on Garak’s face was worse, though. He’d never seen Garak look like that. In a whole year of lunches together and amicable sparring on the Promenade, he’d never seen Garak not in control of himself, or indeed in any state Julian could describe as ‘emotional’.

“I’m afraid not, child,” Garak said, quickly and sharply, not lingering over his words as he usually did. “Come, doctor,” he added, hurrying off the way they had come with a nod to the matron. “I believe you’ll find your computer system fully functional now, madam.”

Julian didn’t follow immediately, for all that the feeling of Asha’s eyes on him, and the eyes of the younger boy behind her, made him almost as acutely uncomfortable as they must have made Garak.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, just loud enough for Stardust to hear him. “I really had better go too. It was...good talking to you, Stardust.”

Stardust sniffed. It was only pride, Julian suspected, that kept it from being a sniffle. “That’s still not a real name.”

Later, Julian wouldn’t be able to account for what he said next, except that he’d meant it with every fibre of his being then, and wasn’t going to betray that little girl’s trust now he’d done it. “Then we’ll have to find you one,” he said firmly, and the smile she’d aimed at him then had lit up her small face like the sun coming out.

It wasn’t a long walk back to the shuttleport, but Julian couldn’t stop thinking about the centre, and what he’d seen there. He only recovered himself when they had to sign out their runabout, and that was only because the Bajoran clerk at the docks kept glaring at Garak and making barbed, low-voiced comments about how any Cardassian could have the nerve to even  _ breathe  _ on Bajor. What happened to the Rugals of previous generations when the Occupation ended, Julian found himself wondering. Or others like the orphans he’d seen at the Resettlement Centre. Rugal had been adopted out to a Bajoran couple under the Occupation - there must’ve been more like him, before and after his case came up. Garak was quiet too, and the look on his face was such that Julian couldn’t quite bring himself to ask.

By the time they were in the runabout, though, Garak seemed to have recovered himself. By the time they were in orbit, he was almost happy.

“Computer! Set up a data bank cross-referencing age groups, sex, year of adoption.”

Julian permitted himself a thin smile. No. They weren’t avoiding it that easily. “Computer, disregard that request, and shut down all engines.”

He heard the whir of the engines powering down and leant back in his chair, watching Garak out of the corner of his eye.

“I’m sorry you’re upset about the orphans,” Garak said, so smooth and so apparently unaffected that Julian wanted to scream at him as Garak spun his seat to face him. “Children without parents have no status in Cardassian society. The situation is  _ most  _ unfortunate, but I don’t make the rules.”

“But you  _ do  _ play the game, don’t you Garak?” Julian said, turning to face him. “And there  _ is  _ a game being played right now as we speak, isn’t there?”

Garak’s expression changed a little, becoming sharper, less familiar, somehow. “There are always games, doctor.”

“The trouble is, I don’t have the  _ slightest  _ idea what this game is all about! So you’re going to tell me what’s going on inside that  _ plain and simple  _ head of yours, my Cardassian friend, or we’re going to sit here until we rot!”

He would have quite liked Garak to react to that little speech. He’d been planning it for a while. Instead, there was only...a shift, behind Garak’s eyes, nothing Julian could even put into words, and a slight movement of the head before Garak succeeded in so completely up-ending Julian’s view of the situation in the space of just a few sentences. And so Julian had started the engines up again, and let Garak compile his data bank. It was only as they were combing through the long, dull files, looking for anything that might link Gul Dukat to Proka Rugal or Rugal Pa’Dar or whatever the boy wanted to call himself, that Julian found his mind drifting back to the orphan girl on Bajor. Suffering. Stardust. Even in his own head, he couldn’t think of her as ‘Suffering’. He’d never been a violent man, but he could have cheerfully hit whoever it was who thought to call her that. She’d been abandoned already, wasn’t that trauma enough?

“The girl seemed rather frightened of me.” Garak commented out of the blue.

Julian smiled, although it wasn’t a happy expression. “I thought you were listening.”

“Of course I was listening, we  _ were  _ in the same room. What I mean, doctor, is that if a  _ half _ -Cardassian child is already afraid of us at a mere six years old, just what has Rugal been taught these past eight years?”

An odd coldness came over Julian. “If that freighter captain was telling the truth, probably much worse.”

A hum from Garak. “Even if the captain wasn’t, and at this time there is little evidence  _ either  _ way, the damage will still be severe.”

“...probably, yes.” Julian hadn’t considered that. There seemed, now, to be a lot of things he hadn’t considered. “I don’t see any way this can end well for Rugal, now. Or...or for any of them, on Bajor, if Dukat wasn’t sincere about doing something for the war orphans.”

“Oh, I doubt he is, doctor, I doubt that  _ very  _ much. Try as they might, Bajor is not their home. But their true home does not want them, so what are they to do?”

Julian shook his head and leafed through another file, “Isn’t there something? I mean...say, extended family? Aunts, uncles, grandparents, that sort of thing? Might any of them be willing to take them in, if family means that much to Cardassians?”

But- No. Stardust said she’d been hatched at the Resettlement Centre, which suggested that her mother had been the Cardassian. If her own mother had left her there, what were the odds of any extended family taking an interest, even if they could be found?

“Grand families can have up to four generations at one table, but if there were any grand families stationed on Bajor, I’m more than sure that they’d have taken their young with them. And even then, with their parents gone, their status within the family diminishes rapidly - some keep them in order to have someone to manage family ventures too sensitive to trust to an outsider,” Garak admitted, with a bitter twist of the mouth that ought to have set conspiracy theories running loose in Julian’s head, but didn’t, this once. “But even that offers little more consolation than they can find on Bajor.” A pause, and then. “And for a child of Bajoran ancestry, even in the smallest degree, it becomes even more unlikely. The girl is lucky she wasn’t left to die - the commingling of Cardassian and Bajoran blood was not looked upon with any favour at all, even at the height of the Occupation.”

She might well have been, Julian thought, and returned his attention to the files, furious at Garak and Cardassia and Gul Dukat and nearly everything in the world that had conspired to put hundreds, thousands of people in this situation for no other reason than the accidents of birth.

“And...aren’t there any Cardassian families who might be willing to take them in? If they can’t have children of their own, say, or…” But Garak was already shaking his head.

“You either have a family, or you do not. Your concept of adoption, I’m afraid to say, does not  _ exist  _ on Cardassia, doctor. There is little to be done.”

Julian snorted. “There is  _ always  _ something to be done. It’s just a matter of whether people will do it.”

Garak looked him up and down with a half intrigued smile, “Such cynicism. I’d begun to think you didn’t have it in you, my dear doctor.”

“I’d have thought you’d take that more as a sign of my  _ insufferable  _ naivete,” Julian said, amused despite himself. “But I’d rather not believe things were as entirely hopeless as you make them sound.”

“You assume people will not do what must be done, that’s cynicism. And I never said all hope was lost, merely that  _ little  _ could be done.  _ We _ , at least, can do something for Rugal.”

Julian breathed in, nodded, went back to the files. “If we can only get through all of these before Commander Sisko has to give a ruling.”

Hands flicking through information on the screen, Garak offered him a devious smile, “With your brilliance and my persistence? I have little doubt we’ll find something.”

That probably hadn’t been intended as flirtation, but Julian had heard it that way all the same..

*

It was harder to explain, even to himself, the second time Julian found himself at the gates of the Tozhat Resettlement Centre on his next day off, with a PADD loaded with names and no clear idea of why he was there at all, except that he’d promised to come back, and after how uneasy the final judgement on Rugal had made him, he’d wanted to do that much right. It wasn’t that he had anything against Pa’Dar, the man certainly seemed to love his son and of course in a case of kidnap the rules were different, but...at the same time, from the moment he’d learnt the precise nature of Gul Dukat’s interest, on that runabout on the way back to the station, he couldn’t stop thinking about how  _ convenient  _ the freighter captain’s accusations had been for Dukat’s purpose, and how ideal the timing had been. Garak might not trust coincidences, but even for Julian, that was a few too many in one place for his peace of mind.

“I’m...ah...here to see Tozhat...Suffering,” Julian said awkwardly, forcing the name out and trying not to glare. It might not be Deela’s fault, she’d said she was in the Underground before she came here, which meant she was probably comparatively new to the job...but, all the same, he couldn’t like it.

Deela frowned at him. “Is she relevant to your investigation, doctor?” she said disapprovingly.

“No, no,” Julian said quickly, “But she asked me to bring her this, the last time I was here, so…” he shrugged, and forced a smile. “Can I see her? At least to drop off the PADD?”

Deela frowned. “What is on this PADD?” she asked, reaching to take it from Julian, who tapped the screen to show her.

“Names, mostly,” he admitted, and neglected to mention the collection of classic Federation children’s stories he’d ‘forgotten’ to remove from the PADD’s files. “For some reason I can’t  _ begin  _ to fathom, she doesn’t like hers very much,” he added. It came out sounding more like Garak than he was quite comfortable with, acid-edged and nasty.

Deela flushed a little at that. “She came to us already named,” she said shortly, avoiding Julian’s eyes. “There was a note, with the egg. We didn’t have another name for her, and it’s policy not to change the names of children who come to us, so their own families are better able to find them.”

Any family that would name their child something like ‘Suffering’ wasn’t worth the having, to Julian’s mind. Why name a child if you were only going to abandon them anyway? If her mother hadn’t wanted her, that was one thing, but why twist the knife as well when you were never going to see the child again?

“I never said it was your fault,” he said instead, rather frostily. “But as you can see, it’s nothing inappropriate. Can I see her, please?”

Deela collected herself, and nodded jerkily. “Yes- Yes. The visitors’ room is this way - I’ll send her up.”

The visitors’ room was one floor up, with a view overlooking the city. Tozhat Province had been a site of famous natural beauty for centuries, and it wasn’t hard to see why, looking over the gardens and greenery and pale golden stone stretching out as far as the eye could see. Beyond the view, the room itself was downright mundane - two chairs, a low table, and a surveillance device in the corner, to make sure any child being visited was not being taken advantage of. Everything was old and in poor repair, but that was ordinary, with Bajor’s resources so overstretched. Still, it didn’t leave much to do but pace and wait until the door opened, and Deela came in, leading Stardust - he still couldn’t quite think of her as ‘Suffering’ - by the hand.

“Teyma, you remember Doctor Bashir, don’t you?” Deela said, in the sort of tone adults often used with children they didn’t think were very bright.

Stardust looked up at Deela for barely a second before averting her eyes again and nodding. “He came and fixed the computer.”

“That’s right,” Deela agreed, “He’s brought something for you.”

Julian tried to smile, but the look on Stardust’s- on Teyma’s face, he supposed - made it difficult.

“I remembered our conversation about names the last time I was here, and thought you’d like a good range to choose from,” he offered. “Um. If you’re interested in changing it, that is. Nothing says you have to,” he added, “But you can, if you’d rather be called something else...er…” He was babbling again, and he knew it, but it was only just dawning on him how little about Bajoran laws on these things he actually knew.

Deela pursed her lips. “I’ll be in the next room, if you need me,” she said, and disappeared off through the door, leaving the two of them alone.

Julian looked back to Stardust to see she had stepped a bit closer and was looking up at him with the widest pair of honey-colored eyes he’d ever seen.

“Here,” he said quietly, holding out the PADD. “Er, you might recognise some of them. I had to ask some of my colleagues for Bajoran names, but there are human and Cardassian names in there as well.”

Garak had supplied the Cardassian names, when Julian asked, and insisted on giving him the meanings of the names as well. Julian was pretty sure that some of them had been made up - no-one would name their child ‘Skrain’ if it really translated as ‘vermin’ - but he was used to that, with Garak.

She hesitated after taking the PADD, continuing to stare up at him with such a doleful look. Then she blinked a few times quickly, and went over to one of the chairs. After she’d climbed onto it and put the PADD down, Julian heard her mumble:

“I didn’t think you’d come back.”

Something in Julian’s chest twisted painfully. “I said I would, didn’t I?” he replied, as brightly as he could manage. “I’d have come sooner, but this was my first free day since last time we saw each other.” He paused, and added, “You didn’t get into any trouble after we left, did you?”

She’d been hiding in the computer room for a reason, after all.

After a moment she looked at him and shook her head, “No, everybody was too busy looking at the computers.” She bit her lip and offered a small smile, “Thank you...for coming back.”

Julian smiled back, feeling a sudden, unaccountable urge to ruffle her hair. “It wasn’t any trouble.”

Looking more excited than he’d ever seen a child being given a present before - how many had she ever received, he wondered - Stardust looked back at the PADD and turned it on, though as she looked at some of the names she shyly admitted, “I can’t read some of these…”

Julian could have kicked himself. “Here,” he said, pulling the other chair over to sit beside her, “Show me which ones you can’t read, and I’ll translate for you.”

She flashed him a shy smile, and bent over the PADD.

“Um, this one?” One little finger pointed on the PADD and for a moment Julian was distracted by how adorable it was.

“Which one - oh. Um. That’s human. It says ‘Mariam’.”

“What’s it mean?”

Julian frowned. “It’s...I think it’s an Arabic form of another name, ‘Miriam’,” he offered. “I don’t actually know what it means. But it was my grandmother’s name, and I always liked the sound of it.”

That much, at least, was true. Mariam Khalifa had laughed at Jules, sounding out her name over and over again, because the sound of it was pretty and he’d just liked to say it, but it had been a warm laugh, full of affection, without a single derisive note to be found.

Stardust mouthed the name to herself and nodded. “I like it. What about this one? I know it’s Bajoran but…”

Julian looked. “Oh! Right. Nurse Jabara suggested that one, and she’s from Musilla Province, so there’s a bit of a language barrier. Um...Tarel, I think that one is. She didn’t tell me what it meant.”

Stardust wrinkled her nose. “There’s a Tarel here,” she said, with a twist of her mouth. “She steals my rations sometimes when Miss Deela isn’t looking.”

“Can you report her?” Julian asked, before he thought better of it. “Or - can I? If you don’t want people to know you told.”

Once more, she shook her head, “No...Asha shares hers with me when it happens, so.”

“That doesn’t mean Tarel should be allowed to take yours away,” Julian said, a little more sharply than he’d meant, and saw her flinch. “You’re not in trouble,” he said quickly, “I promise, if you really don’t want me to tell, I won’t. So...you’re friends with Asha, then?”

It was honestly good to know Stardust had any friends at all. She’d all but said she hadn’t, the last time they saw each other, and the thought of her being all alone in a houseful of other children had tugged at Julian in some odd way he couldn’t quite explain.

“I don’t know...Asha helps sometimes, when she can get away with it, and it’s nice to sit by her, but she doesn’t really talk to me. Nobody really talks.”

Julian reached out, and put a hand on her arm. “People don’t often like talking to me, either,” he offered. “You just have to find the right people, I suppose.”

She looked first at the hand on her arm, and then up at him with a hopeful look, “Like your friend who was here with you last time?”

“Yes, like Garak,” Julian agreed, unable to help his smile at that, “We don’t agree on much, but it’s never stopped us talking.”

Biting her lip again, that seemed to be a nervous habit, she looked at the PADD to avoid looking at him, “So how come he didn’t take them back to Cardassia? I get why I can’t, I’m not...I don’t belong anywhere, but Asha and the others…?”

How was he supposed to explain that, Julian thought desperately. The truth, he supposed, but...he didn’t even know if Garak  _ could  _ have taken them home.

“Well, Garak isn’t the Cardassian government,” he began. “He’s…” He had no idea what Garak was, except that it was far too complicated to explain to a six-year-old. “A tailor,” he settled on. “He runs a shop on Deep Space Nine. I don’t think he’s been back to Cardassia the whole time I’ve known him. To bring all the Cardassians left orphaned on Bajor home would be a massive undertaking, and unfortunately the one person who seemed to be trying to suggest that was only doing it to make himself look good, and dropped the project as soon as it stopped being useful to him.”

“But...did it matter, if it made him look good? I mean, they’d still be home, right?”

Julian sighed. “If he’d followed through and done it...maybe. But since he was only doing it to show off, he wasn’t really putting any work into it. I don’t think he ever intended to actually follow through and bring you all home.”

And, even if he had...orphaned children had no status in Cardassian society, Garak had said, and Julian had heard the edge in his voice as he’d said it, and wondered if that was what Garak was, and why he was all the way out at Deep Space Nine instead of back on Cardassia. Would an orphanage on Cardassia be any different to an orphanage on Bajor, if both worlds despised them?

“Oh.” She looked very disappointed, and brought the PADD closer to her, “What do these ones mean?” She continued as if shoving the sadness to the side would make it easier.

Julian glanced over her shoulder. Ah. This would be delicate. “Those are Kardasi,” he explained, “Garak provided a whole list - and you’ll be pleased to know that  _ he  _ provided meanings.”

“Do you know how to say them?” She asked skeptically.

“I’ve been learning Kardasi for a while,” Julian admitted, “Garak keeps lending me books in it. I’m not very good yet, but I can at least pronounce most of the names. Let me see...that one you’re pointing at is pronounced ‘Haneri’. It’s not a common name on Cardassia anymore, but it means ‘faith’.”

She scrunched her nose at that, “I don’t really have a lot of faith.” As if realizing something she looked up at him to see his reaction to that.

“That’s fair enough,” Julian said, pretending he hadn’t seen the flash of fear in her eyes. “It’s not compulsory, or it shouldn’t be.”

The look she gave him made him think that she didn’t believe a word, “But... _ everybody _ believes in the Prophets. We’re all told about them.”

“Well, they do  _ exist _ ,” Julian admits, “We’ve got definitive proof of that. But whether you follow them or not...that’s your decision. As for the names...name meanings don’t need to mean much for you as a person. I know mine doesn’t - ‘Julian’ means something like ‘youthful’, which is going to give me trouble in twenty or thirty years.”

“Will you change  _ your  _ name then?”

Julian shook his head. “No, probably not. That’s the point. If you just like the sound of a name, but not the meaning, that shouldn’t stop you having it if you want it.”

Objectively ‘Teyma’ was very pretty, even. It was just...from Deela, it had been ‘Teyma’, the Bajoran word, just Stardust’s real name. But when Stardust said it herself...then, he heard it translated. Translators worked three-quarters in the mind, and if he’d heard ‘Suffering’...then that was probably what she heard, too, every time someone called her that. It shouldn’t have made him this angry - she wasn’t being hurt, or starved, or neglected. It did, though, and it was an effort to gentle his voice enough that he wouldn’t frighten her. “But if you don’t like Haneri, there are plenty of other names.”

“I don’t. What about this one?”

“Alin,” Julian supplied. “Intellect.”

“Oh. I kinda like it but...I’m not really smart.” She said it so casually, as if this was just  _ known _ , and Julian felt an awful pang of familiarity.

“Who told you that?” he said, trying not to snap, but he’d slipped again, he must’ve done, from the look on Stardust’s face.

“I-I mean, I can’t...can’t focus well, and I don’t do well on the tests they give...and I couldn’t even read until Asha spent  _ weeks  _ showing me last year…”

Julian drew in a breath, tried to calm himself. “So you don’t do well on tests,” he said, “It’s not the same thing as being unintelligent. Look at what you were saying just now about Gul Dukat - I mean, the man who claimed to be trying to bring Cardassian war orphans home…”

Stardust looked deeply confused, “What about him?”

“Well, you were quick enough to spot the holes in my explanation, weren’t you? And to challenge them. That’s a form of intelligence right there - knowing enough to know when something doesn’t make sense is usually the first step towards working out how to find a solution that does.”

The wonder on her face was heartwarming, “I never thought of that…”

“Plenty of people don’t.” Julian cleared his throat, “I had trouble with it for years.”

That had been true even after Adigeon Prime. He’d been too eager to please, too pleased that teachers liked him now, and so he’d eaten up a lot of explanations that hadn’t made sense. He hadn’t started to move past that until he was fifteen, and even now he knew that he had a lot to learn.

“Do you use it a lot at your job on the station?”

Julian groaned dramatically, “I think every doctor does! A lot of medical problems are embarrassing, you see, or people don’t want to explain how they got them. Or spotting difficult symptoms, or problems in clinical trials. I’m not great at doing it with people, though,” he added. If he had been, he’d have seen through Dukat a lot earlier, or at least spotted all the holes in that freighter captain’s story a bit earlier.

“Really? What kinds of problems happen on the station? Everybody always wants to go there, to see the Celestial Temple and, uh, the...Emissary?”

Julian raked through his recent history, and hit on something reasonably child-friendly, “Well, a few months ago we had a bout of people’s imaginations coming to life. Which was a lot less fun than it sounds,” he added, nearly shuddering at the memory of the look on Dax’s face.

“Everybody could see imaginary friends? How’s that bad?”

Julian winced. “That depends on your imaginary friend. Chief O’Brien - he’s our chief engineer - his daughter’s imagination produced a fairy-tale villain from an Earth children’s story, which was pretty awful for her. And for a lot of the rest of us it was just embarrassing, or…” he thought of Nurse Jabara, who had taken the day off after her dead son had walked into the Infirmary, alive and well and wanting to talk to her. “...or painful.” He smiled, a little ruefully. “Like I said...dreams coming true. The trouble is, plenty of us didn’t have especially good dreams.”

“How’d you get them to go away?”

“Well, they turned out to be the result of an alien species from the Gamma quadrant wanting to learn about imagination,” Julian admitted.

Stardust gave him that skeptical look again, frowning adorably.

“I’m afraid it’s true. This was the second time we’ve been visited by non-corporeal aliens who wanted to cause trouble, only I slept through the first time.”

He rather wished he’d slept through the second time, too, if only because it would’ve been less embarrassing.

“You  _ slept  _ through it? Do a lot of things like that happen?”

“Not exactly like that,” Julian said, shrugging, “But odd things happen a lot in Starfleet, and we’re right next to the wormhole, so we have to deal with more of them than most.”

The imaginary creatures had, at least, been less troubling than the virus from the Valerian freighter, even more recently. What Julian had become under its influence...what they’d all become, really, but remembering the way his brain had worked, the way it had felt, still made him feel slightly sick to think of it.

“So...what is it normally like, up there?”

Julian grinned at her, “It’s...difficult to describe. Lively, would be the best word. Lots of people in close proximity, always new information coming in from the Gamma Quadrant, or something happening at Quark’s bar, and...well, yes, we do have quite a lot of emergencies...but it’s not somewhere I can ever imagine being bored with, the way I could on Earth.”

“So it’s always exciting?” Her eyes were getting a bit starry again, and she was giving him her rapt attention.

“Sometimes it’s terrifying instead, but yes.” Julian’s smile widened. “And here?” he asked, honestly curious, even as he was slightly afraid of what he might find out. Deela had seemed like a kind woman, but all the same...some of what Stardust had said made him uneasy.

“Boring. I mean, I have fun running around chasing the little lizards chase the bugs, but...outside of lessons and chores there’s not a lot to do. The other kids play games, but I don’t get picked for teams, and no-one wants to play with me outside that.”

It would have been easier if she’d sounded self-pitying. As it was, it was just...resigned. As if boredom and isolation were just...her lot in life.

“Do you ever get to spend time with children from outside the Centre?”

“We go to a lake on really really nice days, when it’s so warm I just want to lay still, but the kids with families don’t like playing with us.”

Julian wanted to hug her, just then, but Stardust had gone back to looking at the list of names, and honestly he wasn’t sure she’d welcome it. He was just another adult to her. One without any power over her, which was maybe why she was telling him all this so freely, but still...it hurt, that he couldn’t do anything to ease things for her, even knowing how little he could do.

“Can I...can I keep this, for a while?” Stardust asked, looking up nervously. “Just...just to think things over?”

“Of course. I mean- I brought the PADD, it’s for you, and if you don’t like any of the names you can just...take them off and keep the PADD.” He smiled at her, but she didn’t return it. “What’s wrong? You don’t have to take it if you don’t want,” he added, in case that was it. For all he knew, he was smuggling her contraband and she’d get in trouble if she kept it, he realised, and now wished he’d gone to more trouble to find out the rules.

“No,” she said, “It’s not…” She bit her lip again. “Will you come back and see me again?” she said, the words almost tumbling over each other in their haste to get out.

“If you want,” Julian said, putting a hand on her arm, “Of course I’ll come. I get one day off a week, barring medical emergencies - I can come and see you then.”

Stardust beamed at him, and Julian felt with a horrible certainty that he was in over his head with this.


	3. and i'm running down a mountainside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Julian makes another visit, and Teyma chooses her name.

That first week, he’d almost been able to keep his mind on his everyday life. The occasional stray thought might pop up - whether Stardust had chosen a name yet, or what she had thought of the Federation children’s stories or whether she’d read them at all - but he hadn’t been lost to it. He couldn’t be, anyway, he’d just found out that in a matter of weeks they’d have Starfleet’s first Elasian joining them on the station, which meant working out just what that meant in terms of medical needs, not just mobility aids but a whole new species’ worth of allergies and reactions to different compounds that needed careful analysis. There were at least three of his standard medicines that wouldn’t have any effect at all, for which he’d need to replicate or requisition substitutes, and that was without considering how all of this would interact with the accessibility modifications that Chief O’Brien was only now getting around to.

“I suppose we couldn’t just use a float chair?” the chief grumbled, scowling at the plans.

“Apparently they give her motion sickness,” Julian put in, “It shouldn’t be too hard to replicate, though, with Ensign Pazlar’s specifications.”

“I know that!” O’Brien scowled. “No need to tell me, I’ve only been working with replicators twenty years…”

“Then there’s no problem, is there?” Julian said, smiling, “I just hope we can get the rest of the accommodations finished in time - how are the ramps coming?”

O’Brien set down his isolinear spanner a bit more heavily than seemed really necessary. “It’ll be done in time! It’s just a few ramps, hardly rocket science - and it wouldn’t matter if it  _ were  _ rocket science because, unless you hadn’t noticed, rocket science is what I  _ do _ !”

“I know, but the whole station’s going to need these modifications, and we’ve only got another week and a half or so before she’s here. And with everything else that keeps going wrong-”

“I told you,” O’Brien retorted. “We’ll get it sorted. Why don’t you pay a bit more attention to your side of things, if you’re that worried?”

“Already done,” Julian admitted. That was...not too far beyond what might be humanly expected, was it? He coughed. “I...er...put in a few extra hours to get it finished, and Lieutenant Dax helped as well, of course.”

O’Brien made a sceptical sort of noise in the back of his throat, and Julian was sure he’d said something wrong. He picked up his PADD, went over the list again. Nothing new jumped out at him, but then, he hadn’t really expected it to. It occurred to him, then, that he didn’t actually know what it was he was supposed to do with children if he wasn’t vaccinating, examining or operating on them. His own childhood behaviours had hardly been typical, that much had been made quite clear to him, and as an only child whose cousins all thought he had died at the age of six and who had rarely lived in any one place long enough to form permanent attachments, he was woefully short on other points of reference. He’d sent ahead asking for permission to take Stardust out of the Resettlement Centre for an afternoon, just because it seemed like she didn’t get many days out, but now he had to come up with some sort of activity on a planet that didn’t have more than one working holosuite even in the capital city, never mind a backwater like Tozhat.

“Er...I was wondering,” he started, glad that he was still holding the PADD and thus couldn’t fidget.

A not-entirely-encouraging grunt from the chief.

“...what sort of things do children like, in your experience?”

The chief tried to sit up, hit his head, cursed, and looked around to frown at him. “What?”

“Children,” Julian repeated. “What do they generally like to do? I mean...presumably you know, what with Molly and everything, but-”

“No, no, I heard that.” O’Brien’s frown deepened. “Uh...I don’t know. Most of them don’t like the same things. Why’re you so interested, anyway?”

“Well I- want one to think I’m all right, I mean, I was always afraid of doctors and I’d rather not have them be afraid of _ me _ .”

O’Brien blinked. “...right,” he muttered. “Well, for what it’s worth, I don’t think anyone on the station’s ever thought you were that  _ scary _ .”

“But children have such a  _ different  _ perspective,” Julian pointed out. “How do you settle Molly down if she gets upset? Or withdrawn?”

“Doubt any of them would work for you,” O’Brien said practically, “It’s different with parents than with some strange man you only just met. Uh...you try to comfort them, I guess. Or find something they’re interested in and use that to get them to talk, if they’re wrapped up in themselves enough to be worried about.”

“So getting them to talk works? That shouldn’t be too hard.”

“If you can shut up long enough to do it,” Miles muttered, soft enough that a normal human probably wouldn’t have heard it. Julian’s heart sank. He’d thought they might be starting to get along for once. Not that he thought he’d ever be Chief O’Brien’s favourite person, but not having to actively ignore endless snide remarks and whispers not quite hidden behind his back would have been a start, at least. Still...getting her to talk was one thing, but it didn’t do anything for the problem of where to spend their free afternoon. On impulse, he pulled up geography of Tozhat Province. It was a lowland region, mostly farmland, although not as rich as that of the Dakhur Province or the Rakantha Province, which had once been called the breadbasket of Bajor. There was only one lake close enough to the city to be feasible as the place Stardust had mentioned. Would she mind, if he brought her there?

“Ah, thanks Chief, you’ve been a great help.” Julian remembered to say as he turned to do more research, “I just realized I have something I need to look into…”

The chief made another noncommital noise, already back in the guts of the replicator, and Julian headed back towards the infirmary, his mind running on two tracks. They would need to find a substitute for the standardised headache medication, to which Elasians were violently allergic- He’d need to book transport back down to Bajor for the end of the week- He still wasn’t quite sure there wasn’t some better way to allow Ensign Pazlar the fullest range of motion possible- Would he be expected to take responsibility for feeding Stardust, if he had her all afternoon? Then he arrived in the infirmary to find another of the engineering crew had sustained some rather nasty burns - not serious enough to count as an emergency, but more than enough to be painful - and both Elasian cartographers and Bajoran war orphans slipped to the back of his mind for a while.

There was a minor crisis in the infirmary the morning of Julian’s day off that week, as the medication replicator seemed to have reset itself to Cardassian standards, and for a while Julian was worried he might not get away, but the problem, once identified, proved quite simple to fix, and so he was on the shuttle down to Bajor before midday, and sincerely hoping that there wouldn’t be an emergency of any kind between the station and Bajor that would require him to take the first shuttle back up again. It was still three in the afternoon before he reached the Tozhat Resettlement Centre, between the shuttle ride down and trying to navigate Bajoran paperwork for renting a skimmer at the city spacedock.

Deela was outside with a pair of older children, who, by the guilty look on the taller boy’s face, and the defiance on Asha’s, were probably in trouble for something, but she broke off at the sight of Julian.

“Teyma again?” she asked.

“Yes - I, er, I did put in the paperwork…”

Deela nodded. “I saw it,” she said neutrally. “Meressa!” she added, calling to one of a group of Bajoran children playing what looked like a simplified form of springball, “Go and fetch Teyma for me.” She gave Julian a considering look, and nodded once. “You’re clear for the rest of the afternoon - have her back by the third hour, and make sure she’s eaten before she gets in.”

“I’m sure I’ll manage,” Julian assured her. Somehow, Deela did not look terribly convinced. “Er- She mentioned a lake, near here, where you take the children some days…”

“Lake Ke’Narak?”

“She didn’t mention a name, but I presume so.”

Deela nodded, and smiled a little, “I see. It’s a popular spot, especially this time of year. Plenty of people around.”

Stardust herself arrived before Julian could ask just what it was Deela was implying and, if she really thought that he was any sort of danger, why on earth she’d let him visit in the first place. Had he done anything to indicate anything but innocent intentions since he’d started coming here? All right, turning up with Garak probably hadn’t helped his case, but...still. 

There was some sort of odd discolouration on Stardust’s scales, he saw, and as she drew closer, it resolved itself into an ugly bruise, just at the corner of where her cheek met her orbital ridges. Julian sucked in a breath at the sight, couldn’t quite help it.

“That looks painful,” he said, kneeling to meet her, “What happened, Stardust?”

Deela cleared her throat. “Teyma has been fighting, I’m afraid,” she said, rather severely, smoothing down her skirt.

Stardust’s small face twisted into a glower. “Bronar tried to take your PADD away,” she muttered, kicking at the floor with one heavy boot.

“...and he  _ hit  _ you?” Julian demanded, reaching out as gently as he could, guiding her head to let him look at it.

“Only after I bit him,” Stardust admitted, hangdog. “But I wouldn’t’ve if he’d just given it back!”

Julian glanced up at Deela, who looked faintly uncomfortable.

“The stealing will be dealt with,” she said stiffly, “But you see why we can’t let the fighting pass by without some punishment. The PADD will be returned to her at the end of the week, if she’s learnt her lesson.”

“I see. Do you have any way to prevent any further thefts?”

Deela gave him a rather stern look. “It’s being dealt with by the Centre,” she said firmly. “It won’t happen again.”

“Good.” He looked back at Stardust, trying to gentle his tone again, “I...er, asked Miss Deela here if I could take you out for the day,” he said, smiling at her, “Maybe to that lake you mentioned last time, unless there’s somewhere else you’d rather…”

“We’re going to the lake? Together?” She looked as if she'd forgotten about the fight entirely.

“Unless there’s anywhere else you’d rather go. I don’t know anywhere around here, so I’m relying on you to tell me if there is.” He still wanted a closer look at that bruise - of all the times not to have his emergency medkit on him - but it wasn’t life-threatening, and it didn’t seem to give her any pain. Still, just seeing it there made him hope that she’d bitten Bronar, whoever he was, hard enough to leave a few lasting marks of her own.

“The lake is the best place I know, but we don't go there much.” She was beaming at him now, so wide it nearly split her face in two, infectious, and Julian found himself helpless to do anything but grin back.

“Then the lake it is!” He held out a hand and, after a moment, Stardust took it, clinging on so tightly it almost hurt. “I’ll have her back by the third hour,” he added, looking at Deela, and then, to Stardust. “Come on.”

She was very nearly chatty on the flight over to the lake, pointing out everything that caught her eye on the ground below - interestingly-shaped rocks, buildings, any number of Bajoran animals that Julian had never thought to learn the names of before. She had a knack for spotting things at this distance, Julian thought, often he ended up completely missing whatever it was she was pointing at even with his eyesight, because of the distance or the distraction or the natural camouflage of most of Bajor’s wildlife that had survived the Cardassian occupation. That flood of chatter almost died out as he set the skimmer down at the designated area a little way out from the lakeshore, and went around to give her a hand down before she hurt herself trying to make the jump. She was quiet at the lake, too, so quiet that Julian almost thought he’d made a mistake bringing her there, until they were able to find a spot a little way away from the crowds, and he realised just how much of that careful quietness, the way she shrank against his side, was down to the looks they’d been getting since they arrived. After that, it had been almost offensively idyllic. It was a cloudy, muggy sort of day, too hot to be entirely comfortable, too grey to draw many outside, and even with the stifling heat Stardust had refused point-blank to do more than dip a toe in the water and then withdraw it with a startled noise that sounded a bit like ‘reet’ and put Julian absurdly in mind of crocodiles. They’d wandered the wooded side of the lake instead, Stardust racing ahead after wild porli and pointing out barrowbug mounds as they passed them. She didn’t seem to know much about the animals themselves, or even particularly to want to, but just the fact that she had spotted their signs and knew what they were made her positively glow with satisfaction. She seemed to like guessing games, even if every failed guess made her droop a little, and scowled at any suggestion that he might be giving her easy guesses. She didn’t mention the PADD or its contents, though, or if she’d come to any decision about names, whether to keep her own or choose a new one, off the list or from elsewhere, until after the sun had started to creep down over the horizon, painting the lakeside in brilliant blues and greens and scarlets, and Julian had remembered that he still hadn’t gotten her anything more substantial to eat than a jumja stick from a vendor near the most populated part of the lakeshore and suggested they go back to the city to find something.

They’d ended up in a quiet sort of cafe, with an ambiance a bit like the diner, Tommy’s, that Julian and Felix had frequented in their Academy days before Felix dropped out to go into holo-programming instead, except serving hasperat and argendi sandwiches and spiced klemmen instead of burgers and pies. None of the waiters had quite seemed to know what to make of the two of them when they’d come in, but then, humans were still an uncommon sight on Bajor, and the Circle’s fall from grace hadn’t been that long ago - even if their power was broken, there were probably at least a few Bajorans out there who agreed with what they’d had to say.

“We never eat out,” Stardust said with gusto as she devoured her sandwich, as if she were a little wolf instead of a little girl.

Julian shook his head, watching her, an irresistible fond glow in his chest, “On the station, there isn’t much else. Well, there are replicators in everyone’s quarters, but they’re not really an option during the day. Slow down, Stardust,” he added, pushing her glass of moba fruit juice towards her, “Miss Deela will have my skin for her shoes if I bring you home sick.”

Stardust giggled, which Julian was inclined to count as a win. “That’s still not a real name.”

“Does it need to be?” Julian asked, frowning. “Plenty of people have pet names. If you don’t like it I can stop,” he added hastily.

“No! It’s not that...I mean...I can’t  _ use  _ it...but, I think I like...Mila.” Her voice grew quieter and quieter as she spoke, keeping her gaze on the table between them.

Julian blinked. “That’s pretty,” he said, automatically, “Er - Cardassian, yes?”

He honestly hadn’t expected her to choose a Cardassian name, with what she’d said about Garak just a few weeks earlier...but then, the nearest thing she had to a friend was a Cardassian girl, and she’d taken an interest in the names when Julian had been the one reading them out to her. And being half-Cardassian, with a Cardassian name, on Bajor would not be easy for her, especially now, with the wounds of the Occupation still so raw.

She scowled and looked at him from under her orbital ridges, “ _ You _ put them on there.”

“I know!” Julian said quickly, “There’s nothing wrong with it! It- I think it suits you, actually.” 

Mila. Tozhat Mila. He tested the name out inside his head. Well, no, the two names didn’t run together that well, but they didn’t need to. ‘Mila’ was what she’d chosen to call herself, so ‘Mila’ it was.

Mila’s shoulders relaxed from where they’d tensed, and she gave him a shy smile. “You can...you can still call me stardust. If, if you want.”

“Thank you,” Julian said, and put out a hand to shake. “Nice to meet you then,  _ Mila _ .”

Mila frowned. “You already met me,” she pointed out, sounding completely mystified.

“I know - it’s a human thing,” Julian tried to explain. “To mark the new name. Sort of like introducing ourselves to each other again, but properly this time.”

She blinked and still looked confused, but slowly gripped his hand in her small one, then looked at him for guidance. He shook it gently, then let go.

“So,” he said, his eyes flicking over towards the middle-aged Bajoran waiter who was wiping the next table over, and had been for far longer than anyone could have thought necessary. “I think this calls for dessert, don’t you?”

Stars shone in her eyes, “We’re getting  _ dessert  _ too?”

“If you’re up for it.” They probably had enough time before he had to drop her back at the Resettlement Centre. “That reminds me - did you like the stories?”

“I...like some of them.” Mila was avoiding his eyes now, and something in Julian ached at the thought that she was still trying to show him what she thought he wanted to see.

“You don’t need to spare my feelings if you didn’t,” he said, as gently as he could.   
“I liked  _ Red Riding Hood _ ! And- that one about the Vulcan boy and the sehlat?”

“ _ I-Voka _ ?”

“Yeah, and- and _Ozana’s_ _Garden_ \- where’s that one from?”

“Betazed,” Julian replied, ”I’m glad you liked them. I wasn’t sure you would - a lot of Federation stories don’t really make sense to people who didn’t grow up with them.”

“Will you read me one before you go?”

Julian paused. “I think Miss Deela will want to see you go straight to bed when you get back,” he admitted. “It  _ is  _ getting late.”

Well, late for a six-year-old, anyway. The Bajoran third hour of Yeshaddo was something akin to eight o’clock at night on Earth - it was difficult to find exact parallels given the difference in day lengths and how it was divided up, not into two neat halves, but into sections of varying length marked out through some arcane method Julian hadn’t been able to find much information on outside of Bajor, and found too many other things to interest him since he came here to pay it much thought beyond the difficulty in adjusting from station standard twenty-six hour clock to the much more complicated planetside system.

“Oh. But if she doesn’t? Can’t you read then?”

How was it, Julian wondered distantly, that Mila’s eyes appeared to magnify themselves until they took up most of her face when she wanted something? He’d only observed the phenomena once before with the jumja stick he’d bought her at the lake, but it bore closer investigation.  “If you like.”

“Thank you, thank you!” She was beaming at him now. “Can it be a new one? I couldn’t read all of them - I tried, but some of them were too complicated, or too long for me.”

“You’ll have to tell me which ones you’ve read, then,” Julian said firmly, and watched her smile widen still further. And then, because he had to ask. “But I’m going to have to ask Miss Deela if she’ll let  _ me  _ have the PADD back for a little while, since you’re not technically supposed to have it for the rest of the week.”

Her shoulders slumped and she looked away from him with an almost-pout. She mumbled something he couldn’t  _ quite  _ completely hear, just low enough that he heard sounds but didn’t pick up on the meaning of them.

“A little louder, Stardust?” he prodded gently.

“It’s not  _ fair _ ,” she burst out, “I only lost it because Bronar took it, and I stopped him.”

Julian frowned. “ _ How _ did you stop him, Mila?” And, a part of his back-brain wondered, just how much bigger than her was Bronar? She was a small and skinny six-year-old, but that couldn’t be uncommon, here. And that bruise looked to have been caused by much bigger fists than hers.

She looked away from him again and mumbled, but this time just loud enough he could hear her, “...I bit him.”

“Oh- Yes, I remember now, Miss Deela did say. You...probably shouldn’t bite people,” he added quickly. “Even if they are trying to steal from you - was there someone you could’ve told who might have got it back for you? Biting sounds as if it ought to be a last resort.”

“He kicked me  _ and  _ hit me...after I bit him.” She scowled. “And all  _ he  _ got was extra chores. I got those  _ and  _ the PADD taken away!”

Julian had trouble not scowling himself at the mental image that conjured. Whoever ‘Bronar’ was, he’d hit her hard enough to  _ bruise _ , and that wasn’t easy to do through scales. And kicked her as well, and tried to steal from her. One little bite, in contrast, was hardly worth talking about at all.

“I’ll talk to Miss Deela,” he said, fighting to keep his voice calm. “You did- Did you tell her all this at the time?”   
“That he tried to take the PADD, yeah..”

And that he had hit her could hardly have been missed, Julian thought, with an unexpected surge of vindictiveness against Bronar. It was ridiculous, he reminded himself. Children fought, and this time it had ended in a few bumps and bruises, he knew how much worse than this it could get...funny, but the reminder had very little effect on him.

“I’ll talk to her,” he repeated, and pushed over the dessert menu. “So. What would you like?”

As it turned out, they got back to the Resettlement Centre with minutes to spare, and Mila was almost immediately bundled off to bed by one of the older girls - the Centre, Deela explained, did not have the staff to avoid conscripting the older teenagers still in its custody to take care of the younger ones - leaving Julian in the entryway with Deela, who looked more tired than he had seen her before.

“You cut that rather close.”

“It isn’t the third hour yet,” Julian pointed out, although this was true by only a minute - a Bajoran minute, anyway. He cleared his throat. “Mila said something rather interesting over dinner,” he said, as casually as he could, which wasn’t very - even to his own ears, his voice sounded harsher than usual.

“Who?”

“ _ Teyma _ .” The word felt unpleasant in his mouth, although maybe it was just that he knew what it meant now. “I was wondering if you’d be kind enough to clear a few things up for me.”

Deela blinked. “Well, of course I’ll do my best - I suppose this is about the fighting?”

Julian smiled thinly. “Well, I must admit it sounds odd that the person who received the harshest punishment was, by all appearances, the victim in the whole affair.”

“The victim? She bit Bronar deep enough to draw blood. A ten-year-old boy-”

“ _ She’s _ only six, and that didn’t stop him from hitting her,” Julian snapped. “ _ Or _ kicking her, for that matter.”

Deela, for the first time, looked rather flustered. “I know that,” she said, in what was probably an attempt to sound soothing, “And punishments were as equal as could be managed, but Teyma is the only child here who has a PADD of her own, and it  _ is  _ a privilege, you know.”

“Yes, but what was done  _ wasn’t  _ equal,” Julian pointed out. “She’s half his age and he was the instigator of the whole affair.”

“Be that as it may,” Deela retorted, “Fighting really  _ cannot  _ be tolerated. And in this case...well. She’s a good girl, most of the time, and we’d all hate to see her fall into bad habits.”

“Bad habits?” Julian repeated, flummoxed. All right, biting was hardly the most civilised form of fighting ever invented, but she’d been half her attacker’s age and there probably hadn’t been that many other options. Just the extra chores would’ve been punishment enough for that.

Deela gave a slightly strained smile. “Cardassian children, in my experience, tend to develop aggressive characteristics rather more easily than Bajorans.”

“... _ she’s _ not the one who went looking for a fight with a child half her age,” Julian said, a flicker of temper flaring up in the back of his mind.

“Bronar has been disciplined, both for the stealing and the fighting. He did get rather more in the way of extra chores than Teyma did, you know.”

That, at least sounded, reasonable, but at the same time, it made Julian uneasy. “Well, given he committed two offences to her one, that seems only fair.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Deela said, in a tone that suggested she didn’t care what he thought of her punishments. Legally, she was probably right - his only interest here was as Mila’s...friend? Concerned adult? He wasn’t quite sure how to define the protectiveness he felt for the little girl, except that it was definitely there.

“But the point still stands that she’s receiving the same level of punishment for half the number of offences, on the assumption that...what?” Julian demanded. “She’s naturally more violent? Or statistically more likely to display violent tendencies?” If so, he’d debate the statistics that went into that belief. “Despite,” he went on, warming to his subject. “Not being the instigator of the fight - if you can call it that.”

“I can.” Deela’s lips thinned. “Doctor, I understand you mean well, but you weren’t there, and you’ve only heard second-hand what happened. Can you at least trust that I know what I’m doing with my own charges? Would you accept it, if I came into your infirmary and started criticising how you handled your patients?”

“I suppose that would depend on what you had to say.”

Deela gave him a faintly disbelieving look, but went on. “We are attempting to teach these children how to find a place for themselves in Bajoran society. With the Prophets’ help, we will succeed. But first, they have to understand that violence is not the way to get what they want - Teyma should’ve gone for a supervisor, if Bronar was attempting to steal from her.”

“I’m not saying she shouldn’t!” Julian said irritably. “But if you think I have the wrong idea, maybe you’d like to enlighten me?”

Deela gave him a sharp look, but shrugged. “Oh..there was some disagreement over the PADD - she’s not especially inclined to share,” she added, sounding faintly disapproving. “Bronar wanted a go on it - he’s never seen one before - and there was some shoving before he managed to get it off her…”

“She says he kicked her.”

Deela blinked owlishly, looking rather ruffled. “Well, yes,” she admitted. “Children fight, and sometimes it gets a bit boisterous. But nothing serious until he managed to get the PADD. She tried to grab for it, he pushed her away, and she bit the hand he did it with - deep enough it  _ bled _ , might I add!”

“And then he hit her hard enough to bruise through scales,” Julian said grimly. “I can’t say I think much of your attempts to reduce  _ his  _ natural tendency towards violence.”

“He was hurt.”

“So was she!” Julian drew in a sharp breath. “They’re your charges, and I know I have no authority here, but you can see why I’m concerned?”

Deela was looking at him more closely now. “Yes,” she said, in a tone Julian couldn’t quite identify. “I think I can. And now, doctor, I think you’d better be going.”

“And her punishment?”

“Will remain in place.” Deela gave him a faint, sympathetic smile, “It’s only a few more days,” she offered, “And I can’t be seen favouring her, I’m sure you understand.”

“Perfectly,” Julian said, and if his voice was drier than he’d meant it to be, Deela didn’t seem to notice.

His sour mood lasted him all the way back to the spacedock, and he was in orbit before it had fully cleared. He was nearly back to Deep Space Nine before he thought back to the list Garak had given him, and felt a sharp pang. ‘Mila’, Garak had told him, meant ‘beloved’. On Bajor, he knew, a name was a blessing for the child. Jabara had told him so, when he’d gone to her for the list of Bajoran names. The facts hurt more together than they had done apart, and it had been an uneasy thought to begin with, remembering ‘Teyma’. What sort of person, he wondered, when making a wish for their child’s future, chose ‘suffering’? Perhaps Mila really had been better off at the Resettlement Centre, rather than living with someone like that. But, given a choice of her own name, what she’d chosen to be was ‘beloved’. She deserved to be, he thought fiercely. She deserved every wish on that list of names and then some, but ‘beloved’ was what she’d chosen, what she’d wanted most. Or maybe he was reading too much into things and she just liked the name. All he knew was that, now he’d put it all together, the information wouldn’t leave him be. It followed him through the next few days, as he ordered in new medications that weren’t going to be poisonous to Ensign Pazlar and treated injuries from barroom brawls and engineering misfires, leaving him tense and irritable and more than usually uneasy in his own skin.

 


	4. when you walked into the room just then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conclusion must be made, teasing occurs, and Julian tries to juggle too many things at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one covers the events of "Melora" and we're nearing the end here. Possibly one or two more chapters left of this! Thank you all for your nice words and continuing to read.

Dax was smirking at him as he dictated his medical log, and even though Julian was doing his best to ignore it, it wasn’t at all a comfortable feeling.

“...and, as such, requires special accommodations,” he finished, pressing another button on the wheelchair’s arm to test the workings. Not nearly as comfortable as a float-chair would have been, or as versatile, but workable, at least, and probably not actively conducive to back problems. Ensign Pazlar, at least, had been quite insistent on the design, but he wouldn’t know it was perfect until she told him otherwise.

“I haven’t seen one of these in three hundred years!” Jadzia commented, “I’m surprised it was even on file in the replicator’s databank!”

“It isn’t,” Julian said, turning the chair - good range of mobility, but no ability to do a complete spin, as you’d find in a float chair. Clearly, he was going to have to talk to Chief O’Brien about space allowances - “Ensign Pazlar sent me the specifications.”

“She really uses one like this?” Dax prodded.

“Her normal anti-grav unit isn’t going to work here. Same problem we had with the Starfleet cargo lifts.” A few more circuits of the room, just to check, he thought, and then he could call himself satisfied with how the chair was functioning. The sort of anti-grav unit Ensign Pazlar was used to using was the sort that was worn on the person, rather than the sort that came attached to a vehicle, was the most difficult part of all this - the adjustment from being so much more mobile than her colleagues was going to be difficult, and DS9 was still right at the bottom of the waiting list for being assigned a station counsellor - “Cardassian construction just isn’t compatible,” he added, clambering out just in time for the comms to go off.

“Ops to Bashir,” said Major Kira’s voice. “The  _ Yellowstone  _ has just docked at airlock 14, doctor.”

Julian glanced up at Jadzia, kneeling on the other side of the wheelchair. “We’re on our way.”

“So, Julian.” Jadzia started with a mischievous smile, as soon as they were out of the infirmary and on their way to the docking ring.  “How was your day off?”

Julian blinked. “Um…”

Truthfully, he’d spent the previous afternoon at the Tozhat Resettlement Centre, not having had the time to apply for permission to take Mila out again with all the preparations for Ensign Pazlar’s arrival. They’d spent the afternoon in the visitors’ room, and Julian had helped her with her reading.

“...you noticed that?” he said, rather than reply properly, because he’d thought he was keeping this quite close to his chest. He hadn’t even told Garak he’d gone back to Tozhat yet.

“Ben usually has to twist your arm to get you to use your leave time, even a fraction of it, so you taking three days off in three weeks? Yes, I noticed. Benjamin told me once you’d applied the second time.”

Julian blinked. “...It hasn’t been a problem, has it? Because I had my communicator on me, if there had been an emergency-”

Jadzia rolled her eyes with long suffering smile, “Of course not, I’m just dying of curiosity! Now spill, what have you been up to?”

“Well…” Julian didn’t know how to explain it, exactly, so he forced a smile. “I’ve been visiting Bajor,” he offered. “I hadn’t realised how much I missed being on an actual planet until Garak took me down there last month.”

“So you’ve been taking in the sights?”

Julian nodded. Jadzia’s smile widened. “The sights, or the  _ sights _ ?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t. Come on, Julian, you can tell me if you found someone special. You haven’t made a pass at me in three weeks, now - or did you think I hadn’t noticed that either?”

Julian paused. “I- No. Not the way I think you mean,” he said. “I mean...I have met someone, and she is  _ extremely  _ special...but she’s not...it’s not…” his stomach turned.  “Just... _ no _ .”

“All right. Well, if you ever want to talk about it, you know where to find me.”

Julian grinned at her. “You’ll be the first person I talk to,” he promised.

Thankfully, it was about then that Chief O’Brien came out of the woodwork to tell him that the ramps were finally finished - pretty narrowly, but still finished, and the conversation turned to Ensign Melora Pazlar.

“-once her basic needs are met, she refuses any special assistance. She’s extraordinary,” Julian finished, a helpless, slightly bitter smile tugging at his mouth. It was stupid, to feel like this. The situations were entirely different. Melora Pazlar’s differences were entirely physical, Jules’s had been far more extensive...still, it was...an odd, sideways sort of comfort, to think that he could have done the same, had things been different. That not everything he was had been what Richard Bashir had purchased.

“You make it sound as though you’ve known her for years,” Jadzia teased.

Julian shrugged, “I did the background reading, same as the Chief did.” Honestly, he’d been distracted. Mila had been taking up a lot of his time lately, even when he wasn’t visiting. He kept worrying about her, whether she’d had any more problems with the awful Bronar or any of the other children in that place, or whether she’d found any more stories she’d enjoyed since the last time they’d spoken. She’d developed an odd fondness for nineteenth and early twentieth century western children’s stories, he’d found out at their last meeting -  _ Anne of Green Gables  _ was apparently her new favourite thing ever written - and her bruise had almost completely healed when he’d said goodbye to her the previous evening.

“Not that much background reading, I didn’t,” the Chief muttered. “Everything’s as ready as I could make it, and I’ve got the bumps on the head to prove it.”

“Thanks, chief,” Julian said, smiling brightly. The Chief didn’t appear quite as pleased, but he nodded and headed off back through the Promenade.

The meeting with Ensign Pazlar went...maybe not quite as well as could be expected, but nobody had died or been court-martialled, so things probably weren’t irreparable. Julian had been worried for a while there that he’d mortally offended Ensign Pazlar by modifying her wheelchair specifications, but she hadn’t said anything about it, which she’d have to, if it was causing her any serious discomfort. Or would she? On balance, she might not - she’d been downright prickly about Jadzia’s offer of assistance, and her response to the suggestion that she might not be capable to take a runabout out alone had been even harsher. He wouldn’t know until she complained and that might well be ‘never’, if she thought she was being a bother by asking or that she was giving them excuses to disregard her by doing it. Possibly she was right - he hadn’t even thought about what the presence of a medical officer at her briefing with Captain Sisko might signify until she pointed it out - but it was still an awful thought, that he might have made things worse for her while trying to help, and she didn’t feel she could tell him so to get things straightened out.

“I mean,” he complained to Garak over lunch later that day, “It’s what I’m here for, isn’t it? I know she doesn’t like being treated as if she’s- as if there’s something wrong with her, but if there’s something wrong with the accommodations she has, she needs to be able to tell me about it!”

“No one likes their faults or disadvantages being thrown in their face, doctor. Though if I may, I think you’re being too delicate about the subject. You’re taking this rather personally.”

“It  _ isn’t  _ a fault,” Julian muttered, rather sourly, “She’s perfectly capable, as she will no doubt point out if you ever phrase it that way around her. I just…” he shook his head. “I made the modifications, and I’ve been so distracted these last few weeks that it’s entirely possible I missed something important, but if she’s too- too afraid I’m going to get in the way of her work to tell me when she’s experiencing a real problem, I’m worse than useless.”

Garak made a soft noise, in-between an exhale and a hiss, “Much as I enjoy hearing you talk, my dear doctor, I’d rather we got back to that awful book you recommended than spend the rest of our lunch hour hearing about your lady friends.”

“She isn’t-” Julian started, but stopped. Well, why not? If nothing else...well, it had been a while, and he was really starting to resign himself to the fact that Dax’s interest in him was and would remain entirely platonic.  “And what is it about the book that you object to this time? I thought it might appeal to you - the character of Childermass especially…”

“Oh, there was a great deal in this...text...that I object to, doctor, although I will say that this preoccupation with names as a means of magic is, if anything, harder to accept than the very concept of this ability in the first place.”

Julian rolled his eyes, “I know for a fact Cardassians have  _ some  _ history of magical beliefs, Garak - Hebitian mythology is full of it, if Iloja of Prim’s retellings are any indication.”

Garak looked as if he’d swallowed a lemon, “History far behind a  _ rational  _ mind, doctor. No Cardassian has had any serious belief in magic since before the Union was founded. Setting that aside, names as a form of ‘magic’? A name is simply a collection of sounds applied as a form of identification, one can change it at any moment, so how could it possibly hold power more than a person it’s connected to?”

“Changing names is a bit more complicated than that these days,” Julian reminded him, “But it descends from an old human belief - that the name  _ was  _ whatever it described, and vice versa, and so the one had an effect on the other. I don’t altogether understand it myself, except that...well, it might be just a designation, but names  _ do  _ have an effect on people.”

If they hadn’t, he’d still be going by ‘Jules’.

“Which reminds me,” Garak said, with a wide, untrustworthy smile. “That list of names you requested of me some time ago, what _ ever  _ did you do with it?”

Julian smiled back, “Well,” he said, “If you must know...you remember Stardust?”

Garak blinked. “Stardust?” he paused, “Ah, the...young girl who captured your attention while we were at the centre on Bajor?”

“Yes, that’s her.” Julian poked idly at his food, “Her given name was ‘Teyma’.”

Garak tilted his head in a motion of understanding, “Unfortunate,” he said, “But hardly an uncommon situation on Bajor, I’m afraid. So the list of names was for her? Rather presumptuous of you, helping a stranger with something so personal as a name.”

“It was,” Julian said, a little coolly. This was exactly the sort of reaction that had had him avoiding the subject with Dax. He  _ knew  _ it wasn’t any of his business, he didn’t need Garak or Dax to remind him of that. Somehow, though, it had felt like- like something he had to do. He couldn’t explain it much better than that, even to himself. “Although, if Cardassians attach no particular significance to names, I wonder that you thought to include all those name-meanings with the list.”

His enigmatic friend waved a hand dismissively, “You made it sound so important, and I knew you haven’t quite finished learning Kardasi, so I thought it prudent to include them. As a means of allowing you to expand your studies, if nothing else. But, really, doctor, I was given to understand that, even among humans, the ‘meaning’ of a name relates more to the linguistic origins of the word than any characteristics attributed to or desired for the bearer of the name. Indeed, presuming anything upon knowing the meaning of a name would be seen as uniquely foolish, in Cardassian society.” Garak paused and leaned in, “Have you heard Gul  _ Dukat’s  _ given name? There is a perfect example of what I mean.” 

Julian raised his eyebrows. “I’m not on first-name terms with Gul Dukat, no,” he said, amused. “I can’t think of any reason I’d ever want to be.”

Garak’s smile widened like a shark’s, “A  _ wise  _ decision, doctor.”

It was, of course, about then that Julian’s comm went off - an engineering team with a bad set of burns, this time, after an accident repairing the turbolifts.   
“Duty calls,” he said hastily, scrambling to his feet. “Same time next week?”

He probably would drop in on Ensign Pazlar later, he decided, maybe see if she’d be more willing to talk to him over dinner, without the ‘doctor’ thing getting in the way, and...well, maybe more would come of it, who knew? And maybe try and find some more stories for Mila for their next visit, now he knew the sort of thing she tended to like. He should probably catch up on his medical journals, too, if he had time, and make arrangements for his next day off.

As it turned out, Melora didn’t mind talking at all, if there wasn’t the implication of medical necessity hanging over things - at least, Julian didn’t think she did. She’d accepted his invitation to dinner readily enough, anyway, even with all their bickering beforehand - Julian wasn’t sure what it signified, that he’d enjoyed the bickering almost more than the dinner itself - and...well, it wasn’t unethical, was it, to enjoy her company? Or to come up with the first ideas for a- He wasn’t going to call it a cure. She wasn’t sick, after all, and resented the implication she could be seen that way. Assistive therapy, then. It wasn’t as developed as he might have liked - if he’d had more time, maybe he could’ve done more with it - but arrangements for his next meeting with Mila had kept interfering. That was- There had to be something wrong with that, didn’t there? He’d never used to be the sort of person who let personal commitments interfere with his work. He still wasn’t, so far as he could tell, where anything else was concerned - whatever it was that he and Melora were developing, it had almost nothing to do with the neurochemistry research he was doing on her behalf, he’d have done the same for any other crewman in similar straits - but something about this situation had his mind wandering back to the Tozhat Resettlement Centre a few times every day, fretting. It was...well, maybe not ‘ridiculous’, but whatever her personal biases, Deela hadn’t seemed malicious. Mila was in reasonably good health, well-cared-for in at least the physical sense, so why couldn’t he stop worrying?

“...I didn’t know you had children,” Melora said, staring at him, when he brought it up to her over dinner at the Celestial Cafe a few days later, since she’d asked what it was that had him so distracted.

Julian frowned. “I don’t.”

“Then who is ‘Mila’?”

After a blink, he realized her confusion, though he couldn’t quite put his finger on the feeling it caused. “She’s a little girl at a Bajoran orphanage I sort of...befriended a few weeks ago. She’s a sweet kid, and gets bullied from what I gather so...I suppose I’m just worried about her.”

Melora didn’t have eyebrows to raise, but there was a suggestion of the same quality about her expression. “...do you often go around befriending strange children?”

“Hardly ever!” Julian replied, “I...er. I was sent down there a few weeks ago to investigate something...it’s a long story, involves Cardassian war orphans...um. But Mila was at the orphanage I was investigating, and she...well, kind of took a shine to me.”

Melora blinked. “Well,” she said, sounding honestly a bit perturbed now, her voice gone slightly chilly. “That’s...kind of you. Do you just have a weakness for lame kata, doctor?”

“ _ What _ ? I haven’t heard the phrase before, so what’s  _ that  _ supposed to mean?”

Melora gave a low, slightly bitter laugh. “Well...Doctor Julian Bashir, befriends bullied children and Elaysians in gravity....do you only spend time with people if you can feel sorry for them? Because if that’s all any of this was about-”

“That's  _ ridiculous _ . That's not why I wanted to spend time with you, why I asked you out, and it's certainly not why I visit Mila!” Julian huffed a sigh, “And there went your shields up again. I thought we were past that.”

Melora gave a stiff sort of jerk of the head, “I don’t like being  _ pitied _ ,” she said in a low, fierce voice. “On the Gemworld, you’d all be seriously ill, if you tried to live without gravity for long. I’m  _ fine  _ here, just…”

“I know you are.” Julian shook his head. “I- I do feel sorry for her - for all of them, honestly. It doesn’t seem like the best way to grow up in the world. But I don’t go around looking for opportunities to feel- feel superior to people by pitying them, if that’s what you were implying.”

Melora smiled, and this time it looked genuine, if a little pained. “Then you’re one of the few.”

“That’s me. One in a million,” Julian said, and forced a smile.

It made Melora snort, which was the intention - there was something wonderful about seeing her laugh at him, when she’d been so dour in the beginning, so convinced that anything but strict professionalism would be used against her.

“And so very modest as well!” she mocked, but she was smiling, and Julian counted that as a victory.

The treatments themselves were...uneasy. She could back out, Julian had to remind himself more than once, and she had volunteered to undergo them. It would all end at a word from her. He wasn’t going to be like those doctors on Adigeon Prime, he  _ wasn’t _ .

In the end, they got through three of them, before the worst happened. It was on the morning of his day off in fact, that Quark got kidnapped by some old enemy or other of his, and managed to drag Melora and Dax into the whole mess with him.

Julian hadn’t even been in the infirmary when it happened, he’d been in the docking ring, on his way out, but the comm had come in, and he’d been too afraid of what might happen to hesitate in getting back to Ops, even in civilian clothes and with a bag over his shoulder. The  _ Orinoco _ , a hijacking, hostages taken...Melora. They’d shot Melora, with a phaser Julian was pretty certain hadn’t been set on ‘stun’. She was dead, then, or dying, and the rest of them - well, who knew what would happen to the rest of them, but they needed him with the pursuit as soon as possible. Through the wormhole, into the Gamma Quadrant, and all the while knowing that she must be, could only be dead-

And then, out of the blue, that sudden report about the gravity. She was  _ alive! _ Alive and in no worse condition than if she had only been stunned, and the stun worn off, it transpired when they beamed over to take a look. Safe, and whole, and all that anxiety for- Not for nothing, but for so much less than he had feared.

With all of that, it took almost until they were back at the station, hours later, and Melora had been fully checked over to see that there had been no lasting injuries from her bout with the phaser, for Julian to realise that it had been his day off all this time, and between everything that had happened he had missed the whole afternoon.

The next week was...it felt like having a burr on the inside of his skin, prickling at him day and night. He didn’t quite know why, but his temper was shorter than usual, fraying at the least thing, and he even snapped at Garak during their next conversation - still on  _ Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell _ , since there was just so much of it to get through - when Garak had only been going through his usual performance of innocence. He’d promised to be there. Mila had given him that big-eyed doleful look, and he’d found himself throwing good sense out of the window and promising he’d come back and read with her the next week, maybe take her out again...and he hadn’t. And, yes, it had been an emergency and he wasn’t sorry he’d been there to help Melora because she’d been  _ shot _ , after all, but...he’d promised, and he hadn’t been able to follow through.

He wasn’t entirely sure how he was even going to make up for it, but he knew that he should. Books? He’d brought her those before, but they were always as much chore as pleasure for her, for all that her eyes lit up every time she heard a new story. He didn’t know what sort of toys six-year-olds - ordinary six-year-olds - liked, and he wasn’t sure she’d be able to keep one if he got her one. In the end, it was a chance comment she’d made...two weeks earlier, now, and just that thought made his stomach twist with guilt again...that was the key. It was autumn on Bajor, cold enough that she’d complained about it, the last time he saw her, and cuddled into his side as he read to her, leeching off his body heat like a little lizard on a warm rock. Warm things, she explained, weren’t really necessary in Tozhat, which had always been one of Bajor’s warmer provinces - she could function just fine - and there were never quite enough of them to go around anyway...he got a very odd look from Garak, when Julian dropped in on his shop to ask for the single warmest item of clothing he had in child-sizes, but he left with a thickly-knitted orange sweater that looked...maybe a bit too big, but easily warm enough for a Bajoran autumn, and spring, and possibly winter as well.

He took the first shuttle down to Bajor that he could, when his day off came, and rented a skimmer at the Tozhat spacedock. It was really starting to turn towards winter now, though you’d never know by looking at the place - Julian was still used to Earth’s golden autumns, and Bajor’s flora seemed to tend towards the evergreen - and he felt the chill in the air when he left the spacedock, heading towards the Resettlement Centre.

It was Asha that Julian saw first, this time. She was sitting with the younger Cardassian boy he’d seen when he and Garak first came here, and eyeing him with obvious suspicion.

“Er- Hello?” he tried. “Do you know where Miss Deela is?”

Asha narrowed her eyes at him a bit, and her voice was prim and proper as if she didn’t really want to talk to him but was too polite to say so. It reminded him, absurdly, of Garak dealing with customers. “She’s inside. Why are you here again? We all thought you’d decided not to come back.”

Julian’s heart sank. “There was a medical emergency on my day off last week,” he explained, “Or I’d have been here as usual. It’s taken this long to have another chance to get away.”

“Oh. Well, she’s very  _ lucky  _ to have so much of your  _ attention _ , you must be very busy up on the station.”

Julian shifted uneasily, remembering the circumstances of their last meeting. “Er...yes, I suppose I am,” he tried, and wondered if he should apologise, although he wasn’t sure what for.

She pursed her lips as if trying to find the words for something before asking, “Did you  _ really  _ give her a new name?”

Julian blinked. “...she chose one,” he said. “I...just provided a list, to give her some ideas.”

After a moment more that felt almost like her assessing his intentions, she took a breath and her shoulders sagged, “She asked to be called Mila, and it suits her better than what she was originally given.” She paused again and her voice was quieter and maybe a tad resentful, but Julian wasn’t completely sure that was the right word, “You make her very happy.”

He smiled, he couldn’t quite help it. “I...I hope so,” he said awkwardly, “She deserves to be.” Too late, he realised how that might be taken. “Not that you don’t,” he said hastily. “It’s just that I know Mila better, and-”

“I’m not a little kid, doctor. I know...I know I’m going to be here until I’m a proper adult. Most of us know that…”

Something twisted painfully in Julian’s chest. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, feeling the inadequacy of the words but unable to offer anything more substantial. What good was he even doing here, he wondered, just to come in every week and spend a little time reading to a little girl when he couldn’t even keep her from being punished for other people’s misdeeds?

Before she could reply, the sound of a door opening and a patter of footsteps reached him, a breath after that a small excited voice nearly shrieked, “ _ JULIAAAAAAN _ !”

The next thing he knew he was nearly toppled over as a small mass collided with his legs, nearly knocking them out from under him, and Julian looked down to see Mila clutching his legs, her face buried in his side. He brushed a hand over her hair, smiling helplessly down at her.

“Hello,” he said softly, disentangling himself just enough to be able to bend down level with her and hug her back. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

He could hear her sniffle as she once again hid her face in his chest, “They said you weren’t coming back, and I thought I’d made you mad or…”

“You didn’t,” Julian hurried to say, “There was a medical emergency on the station - one of the other officers was quite badly hurt, and I had to stay and make sure they were all right. I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair. “I should’ve sent a message or something, let you know…”

“You’re sure I didn’t make you mad?” she asked, very softly.

“I’m certain of it. And I’d know. I...er. I brought you something, actually. To say sorry for not being able to make it last week.” 

Did it count as bribery? Well, if it did, it was bribery for a good cause - he’d felt her shivering for a moment there before. He opened his bag, and produced the sweater, wrapped in the dark-green paper Garak always used for parcels.

She finally pulled back and he could see her face for the first time. The unshed tears still in her eyes made them shine even more, though her expression right now was one of wonder. She really did have starlight in her eyes. “A gift?”

“Yes - here, look.” He held it out to her, and watched a cautious smile cross her face, the same look she’d worn when he’d come back, the first time.

Her little claws tore into the paper easily, though she did it slowly, and when she revealed the sweater she stopped and looked up at him. She seemed to be speechless as she took the orange sweater out and held it close to her, “Thank you…”

“It’s no trouble,” Julian said, reaching out to ruffle her hair affectionately. “It might be a bit big for you, I’m afraid - Garak isn’t used to making things for children.”

“But then I can keep it longer! Can I put it on now?” She asked as she was already part way putting her arms through the sleeves.

Julian grinned at her. “Of course you can - it’s your present, and that means you decide what you do with it.”

“Ah, Doctor Bashir.” Julian turned at the sound of Deela and found her just stepping out with a slight frown on her face. He almost sighed as he straightened up to meet her.

“I’m sorry I missed last week,” he said, rather stiffly, “Medical emergency on the station - I should probably have sent a message.”

“It might’ve prevented a meltdown if you had. Could I have a word with you a moment?”

Julian glanced down at Mila, who was still wriggling into the sweater - it came down to her knees, like this, so that only a frill of skirt showed at the bottom.

“I- Yes, all right,” he said. “I’ll be right back, ok, Stardust?” he added, dropping to one knee to smile at her. She gave him a bashful smile and nodded, going over to show Asha her sweater with obvious happiness. Julian watched her go, and felt, for a moment, a sudden, impossible urge to drop a kiss on top of her head and tell her to be careful.

Deela gave him a sharp look and, trying not to seem too obviously apprehensive, he followed her through into the other room.

“I am sorry, about the message,” he said, once they were through. “I didn’t consider-” he shook his head. “It was my own fault. I should’ve said something.”

“Doctor. This has gone on long enough I think.” Deela folded her hands together in front of her and gave him a look.

“...What has?”

Deela rubbed her eyes. “When you didn’t come last week...you must understand, Teyma-  _ Mila _ , I suppose,” she corrected herself, “She’d...put a lot of hopes on you, even if you didn’t realise it. When you didn’t come…”

“I- I’ll try not to leave her so unprepared, in future,” Julian said hurriedly, “Make sure she understands about emergencies - I’ll call, the next time one comes up, if I can-”

With a sigh she gave him a stern but not unkind frown, “You’re not understanding me, doctor. The longer this goes on, the higher her hopes will be...and the harder the crash when they’re not met. So, I need to ask you. How  _ serious  _ are you about this?”

Julian went still. He hadn’t expected this.  “...I’m sorry?”

“Are you intending on adopting her? Because if you’re  _ not _ ...then I need to ask you to stop coming, because she’s starting to think of you as family. I can tell she’s very attached to you - did you know she spent the whole week before last telling everyone who would listen that she was going to live in space, right next to the Celestial Temple?”

An odd sort of pang went through Julian at that. “No, I didn’t.”

Deela gave a little nod, “Please decide soon, the longer you delay, the worse it’ll be.”

Julian didn’t know what to say to that, and so he nodded. It was a useful trick - it always made people think he was a lot more sure of himself than he really was. 

Deela gave him a long, thoughtful look, then sighed. “That was all I had to say to you,” she said. “But if you come back…”

“Then you’ll have my answer,” Julian said, “One way or the other.”

Deela waved a hand to let him leave, and Julian walked out of her office and towards where Mila was still animatedly talking with Asha in somewhat of a daze. The moment Mila realized he’d stepped out again she turned and gave him a blinding smile, eyes shining.

There was something painful in that smile, and Julian almost stopped where he was. Because what on Earth - or Bajor - was he supposed to do now?


	5. it's like the sun came out

Looking back, Julian wasn’t quite sure how he’d got through the rest of that last visit, except that the thought of leaving early had been untenable. He’d been stiff and quiet and distracted the whole time, Deela’s words drifting through his mind at odd moments, making it difficult to concentrate. Not that Mila seemed to notice - she’d been chattering a hundred words a minute almost the whole time he was there about anything and everything that happened to come to mind - what the other children had been doing in the week he’d been away, that she’d managed to get a bit further through _Anne of Green Gables_ on her own this time, though her reading skills were still a little behind the average for her age, questions about life on the station that jolted Julian back into the conversation, strung so close together he could never get more than a few words into any answer before she had the next question ready. The only subject they avoided was the previous week, and what she must’ve thought, and why he hadn’t come. By the time he left, she was downright cheerful, which of course only made things worse.

It was a wonder he managed to make it back to the spacedock where he’d left his borrowed runabout - he hadn't been able to get a seat on the shuttle that week - and when he did, the business of getting ready to launch and make it out of orbit ate up enough of his concentration that he was well on the way to the station before he could spare another thought for Deela’s ultimatum.

His first thought was that this whole thing was ridiculous. Adopt or never come back? Those were hardly his only options. He was Mila’s friend, and he thought so far he’d been a good one, but becoming her guardian, even her parent...the two didn’t necessarily follow. He’d always got along better with adults than children growing up, no reason why she wouldn’t be the same. Then he remembered what Deela had said. _She spent the whole week before last telling everyone who would listen that she was going to live in space._ He could try to let her down gently, tell her that, however fond he might be of her, he’d never planned on adoption...but would it work? Or would he be getting her hopes up every time he visited after all? Just how much could a six-year-old understand about the situation? All she’d see was that he’d chosen to let her stay at the Resettlement Centre. Deela was far from the worst caretaker Mila could possibly have...but, all the same, Julian couldn’t honestly call her the best he could’ve wished for either. But would he be any better? Deela could at least keep her charges fed, clothed and reasonably healthy. Julian couldn’t even keep a pot plant alive.

He never intended to give her the hope of adopting her, he wasn’t even quite sure where she _got_ the idea, but crushing those hopes…

“Deep Space Nine to USS Volga,” Kira’s voice said over the comms, “Volga, do you copy? You’re cleared to land at docking bay six.”

Julian nearly jumped. “Right, yes, sorry- Docking bay six, acknowledged,” he hurried to reply, sounding slightly punch-drunk even to his own ears.

There was a muffled snort from the other end of the line. “Try and concentrate, doctor, before you crash the runabout.”

“I wasn’t going to- Oh, never mind.” Julian rubbed a hand over his face. “Sorry, it’s been a long day.”

“...it’s your day off.”

Julian shrugged. “It’s a long story.”  
“Well, tell it after you’ve docked, it’s not _my_ day off.”

Julian nodded, then remembered too late that she couldn’t see him. “Right. Well, if that’s everything…”

“Go on, doctor.”

Landing was always the trickier part of flying, and docking made landing look simple. Still, Julian couldn’t say he wasn’t glad of the distraction just then. The moment he stepped foot off the runabout and onto the station, that distraction was gone, and not three steps later he was already lost in his thoughts and trying to get everything in order. Even attempting to divide everything into pros and cons for each decision didn’t work to try and quiet his thoughts, he almost ran into two different pylons before making it back to the habitat ring. That was another point against this whole thing - he definitely didn’t have room for a child, and he had no idea how long it’d take to apply for and get family quarters if he tried. Then there was the fact of just how long he’d been on his own. He’d lived with a roommate at the academy, but most of his relationships had been too short-lived for the issue to ever come up, and even with Palis, they’d lived apart the whole time they’d been together. She’d needed her space, and he’d needed his. They’d still been talking about finding a shared flat when he broke things off, and he had no idea what it might’ve been like to live with her. And that was without factoring in that Mila was a small child who would be completely dependent on him for all her day-to-day needs and couldn’t be left alone. None of which mattered, he reminded himself, because even if Mila wasn’t old enough to understand it yet, she was still a ward of the Bajoran government, and relations with the Federation were still delicate enough that he couldn’t imagine the Provisional Government granting him custody even if he had somehow decided he was capable of looking after a child in spite of all the evidence against it. He didn’t exactly have many _shining examples_ of parenthood to go off of. The only people he could go to for advice about this sort of thing were Chief O’Brien, who didn’t seem to have much patience for Julian, and Jabara, whom it would only hurt, with her son’s death still so raw. In short, the whole idea was ridiculous, and he should put it out of his mind and....try and find some way of making it clear to Mila, as kindly as possible, that while he cared for her very much, he was by no means qualified to play the father to her, and that she’d probably be better off if he didn’t even try.

The next morning started as every other had, with the added resolve that Julian had found his answer. He still had to come up with a way to tell Mila, but he had an answer. Now if only he could stop that irritating little voice in the back of his mind picking at said answer, he could be easy. He’d woken earlier than usual, and found it almost impossible to go back to sleep, and so spent most of two hours on the book Garak had lent him at their last lunch until his shift was due to start - Rij had made noises about micromanagement, the last time he’d gone in early, and he’d rather not undermine his working relationships just yet, if he didn’t have to.

He still ended up ten minutes early because he couldn’t stop watching the clock and it had been driving him slightly mad watching the numbers slowly change. Jabara was thankfully the first one to see him and offered an amused look. “So doctor, were you forgiven?”

“I’m sorry?”

“For missing last week? I know you’ve been...out of sorts...because of it.”

Julian winced, “Yes. I, ah...well, she didn’t seem to hold a grudge, at least.” He paused and then, before he could think better of it, said: “I didn’t expect it would upset her as much as it did.”

“That bad? So was your planned gift not enough to smooth things over?”

Julian shook his head, “No, no, she liked that, it’s just…” he shook his head. “Well, the orphanage matron wasn’t best pleased with me for not giving advance warning. She made it sound as if Mila was nearly distraught when I didn’t turn up. I just...I didn’t know she was so attached already.”

Jabara shook her head. “Already? It’s been weeks - that’s practically forever, where kids are concerned.”

“I’ll take your word for that.”

Julian fell into his chair at the console, and started checking on a few of the data models he’d left to run overnight. All proceeding as normal, good...still, something was niggling at him. “All quiet on the night shift?”

“Of course, I would’ve told you if it was otherwise, doctor.”

Julian rubbed his eyes. “Right. Sorry...I’m micromanaging again, aren’t I?”

“Did you sleep alright, Julian?”

“Fine!” Julian said, a little too quickly.

Jabara put down her instruments and gave him a look that could only be described as ‘you’re not fooling me’. Julian sighed.

“I’m fine,” he repeated. “Really.” He went back to the data models, hoping that would be an end to it. Probably it would, Jabara was a consummate professional most of the time, far moreso than he’d ever been. That held true - she didn’t mention it again all through his argument with Morn over letting Julian scan his second stomach, or Chief O’Brien’s dislocated shoulder. But, around mid-morning, the trickle of patients dried up entirely, and Jabara managed to corner him while doing the inventory.

“Not that what you do on your days off isn’t your own business,” she started, giving him a severe look over the medication stores - they needed to top up a few of them, even if this was only meant to be the emergency backup supply, with how often the replicators misbehaved - “But it’s starting to spill over, and I wondered if talking about it might help. Or at least stop you from snapping at the medtechs.”

Julian winced. “Yes...I should probably apologise for that.”

“It seems that- What did she settle on, in the end? Meru?”

“Mila.”

Jabara frowned slightly. “...yes. Mila. It sounds as if she isn’t the only one who got attached.”

“It doesn’t _matter_ how attached I am,” Julian muttered, “It’s not as though I’ve ever done her any real good.”

If Deela was to be believed, quite the reverse, all while he’d been trying to make Mila a bit happier, just in herself. It was almost enough to make him wish he’d never gone back to begin with...except that every time he went to wish that, he remembered the look on Jabara’s face when he’d told her why he wanted that list of Bajoran names, and the stumbling explanation that had followed.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Jabara said, giving him a sideways look. “Is that why you’re in this state?”

“...sort of.” He hadn’t thought of himself as ‘in a state’ before. A surreptitious glance in the nearest reflective surface showed that he was about as neat as he usually was, no obvious signs of sleep deprivation...maybe a little harried-looking, but he was the only doctor for upwards of two thousand people - wasn’t he allowed to be?

“It’s not _that_ obvious,” Jabara hastened to add, “But I’ve been acting assistant CMO for a year now. You’d think I’d know by now if something had you worried.”

“I’m not.”

Of course he wasn’t. He knew what he was going to do. It was just...doing it, he supposed, that presented a problem. Because if everything he’d done so far had only been encouraging Mila to indulge some...some daydream or other that he’d sweep in and take her away from Tozhat like Jean Valjean rescuing Cosette...how could he crush that hope entirely without hurting her? It would be easier if he wouldn’t have to live with it afterwards. If he could just leave her behind without a backwards glance, but...he did want to visit again. Just to check on her, maybe, but also to listen to her chatter and read her stories and see her eyes light up at the sight of him. Maybe Jabara was right. Maybe he _was_ too attached. But there was no helping it - he found himself thinking, at odd moments, about whether Mila was getting any further with her reading, or her maths, which she’d taken to more easily with visual aids than symbols. Or frantically re-examining his own behaviour, trying to pinpoint where, if anywhere, he’d ended up raising false hopes, trying to look at the whole thing from the outside. But then, what was expected in these situations? It wasn’t as if Julian had had many adults he was close to growing up. He couldn’t follow the expected script if he didn’t know what the role was.

Jabara shrugged. “As I said, it’s your own business. Just try not to let it spill over too much.”

Julian nodded, and went back to sorting.

It would have been easier if Molly O’Brien’s annual checkup and vaccinations weren’t due that afternoon. After the end of the station school day, obviously, so Keiko could handle it herself - was there a babysitting service on the station? He’d never asked before, and now the question seemed to be of monumental importance. _Someone_ had to look after Molly while her parents worked, and as both the Chief and Professor O’Brien were Federation citizens, this someone probably didn’t charge in latinum. And Julian’s workload was...all right, it was more than the Chief’s, just because he was the only doctor on the station whereas the Chief had a whole team - just one of the downsides of having got a CMO’s assignment straight out of the Academy - but he had a set shift and then was on call the rest of the time, he could work around...no. He shut that line of thought down. It wasn’t going to matter.

Still...there was no harm in asking, was there? Just for curiosity’s sake. And it was normal enough to make conversation with patients, even if Chief O’Brien complained that he did far too much of it.

He ended up asking almost after the session was over and Molly had a...well, all right, not quite a complete bill of health, but the slight ear infection she had been developing was taken care of.

Keiko frowned a little at the question. “Well, there are a few other families on the station with children the same age,” she started, sounding faintly bemused that anyone was asking at all. Probably all this seemed impossibly obvious to her. “Normally she goes over to play with whoever has at least one parent free - Toby Peterson doesn’t work, so it’s usually his and Aaron’s place that they all go to.”

“...sort of an informal creche?” Julian supplied, frowning. Mila was a bit old for that sort of arrangement anyway, old enough to be in school. Which Keiko ran… “I always wondered,” he added, “Not that you’re not doing your best or anything, but...well, the children on this station range in age from two to fifteen, and with a one-room school…”

“How I manage to teach such a wide range of levels as they’re at?” Keiko finished his question with a small smile. “It’s certainly not easy, mostly I stick to topics, and depending on where the student is at changes what about that subject they’re doing, reports, projects, that sort of thing. I admit, it’s a bit of an adjustment from teaching university-level students...most of the same rules apply, though.”

Julian nodded. “That...more or less makes sense. I didn’t know you had a teaching background at all, before this. Chief O’Brien says you were on the Enterprise together?”

“Yes, botany _is_ my passion, but it's hard to be an academic without doing some teaching work, at least in post-grad. It ended up being enjoyable, and I _do_ like being a teacher. Something about watching someone get that glimmer of understanding, passing on knowledge and knowing you’re helping them build their future… Why are you asking?”

Julian stopped, “What- Oh. Er. Just curious, I suppose.”

Keiko gave him a considering look, “I didn’t know you were so interested in education, doctor. Did you want to be a guest teacher in one of my classes off your shift?”

“No, no,” Julian forced a smile, “I was never really cut out for teaching - although I did make top of my class in paediatric medicine. I suppose I’m just interested - there was terrible trouble at the hospital where I did my residency, trying to find enough qualified people to teach all the really long-term care cases. Mostly they just brought in student volunteers from the nearest university, I think.”

Her smile was wry when she replied, “Not so different from here, then.”

“Except they’re recruiting the professors instead,” Julian agreed. He contemplated asking how, hypothetically, a person could arrange to have their child join her class, then immediately thought better of it. “Well,” he said quickly, “Molly’s fine - you might want to be careful with that ear,” he added, “Avoid water showers and swimming holos for a bit, all right?” he added, giving Molly a mock-stern look that made her giggle.

“Not a problem, thank you, Doctor Bashir. If you change your mind, let me know.”

That didn’t seem particularly likely to Julian, but he saw them out of the infirmary cheerfully enough, and then there was an emergency in one of the runabouts - some sort of minor malfunction with the life support that had left three crewman in need of treatment for oxygen starvation and severe frostbite - and what with one thing and another Julian didn’t really have time to panic until that evening, when everything just seemed to pile in on him at once.

The facts were simple enough - he was twenty-eight, barely out of medical school, alone, overworked...he could think of very few people who would be _less_ suitable to raise a child.

His own parents had been about as young, yes, but theirs wasn’t an example he’d ever planned to emulate. He’d been out of school a year and could at least support himself, but he’d been told any number of times he was immature. Captain Sisko seemed to be doing as good a job as anyone could expect raising Jake on his own...but he hadn’t been alone during the early childhood stage where children needed almost constant care and supervision. Starfleet was generally considered to have excellent accommodations for parents in the service, but that hardly took away from the fact that Julian had never thought much of the idea of raising a child who might be dragged halfway across the galaxy at a moment’s notice even before all this became an issue.

Every argument in favour came with a whole slew of arguments against. He’d never even wanted children, if that meant anything at all, not since he’d been fifteen and finding out they weren’t an option even if he _had_ wanted them. The thought of children in the abstract, general sense still didn’t hold much appeal, if he was honest.  On the other hand...on the other hand, there was Stardust. Mila. Teyma, as had been. He’d promised to read to the end of that collection of stories with her, he remembered with a sudden pang. It had been the week before Melora arrived on the station. Now, why in the galaxy had he done that? And she’d beamed at him and curled up closer, leeching off his body heat, and asked if they could go to the lake again. He’d have to make arrangements for that, for his next visit. Yes, he’d had absolutely no plans to have a child. Children in the abstract were one thing. But _this_ child..that was quite another. He’d been parenting her almost since the beginning, if he looked at it from outside. The list, the day-trips, the help with school, the stories...no wonder she’d assumed he meant to make it official, sooner or later. Maybe he would’ve done even without Deela to push him into it, but he wasn’t sorry she had anymore. And if she had tried to nudge him towards adoption, that must mean it was at least _possible_ , mustn’t it? In order for her to give him an ultimatum about adopting or leaving, that meant it was an option in the first place.

Deela had done her best, he was sure, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to forget ‘naturally more violent than Bajoran children’, as an excuse for an unfair punishment. Or all those shy admissions of Mila’s, dropped into conversations and then apparently forgotten about. Nothing to suggest outright abuse, but...the picture they painted, taken together, did not make it sound like the best of environments. On the station...well, all right, most of her classmates would be Bajoran, but there were Starfleet families - other Starfleet families, he supposed - here too, whose children might be a bit more accepting of her differences. Already, he found himself mentally compiling a list of preparations that would need to be made - Commander Sisko would have to be notified, he’d have to move to larger quarters so Mila could have a room of her own, talk with Professor O’Brien about enrolling her in the station’s school, or any catch-up work that might be necessary before Mila was ready to join children her own age - and all that before he’d even so much as gone down to tell Deela that his answer was yes, if it were possible at all.

He felt a bit like he was standing on the edge of a precipice, and wished he didn’t. People had children all the time, didn’t they? It shouldn’t feel this much like getting ready to jump off a cliff. But then...everything was going to change, if he went through with this. He’d have to re-organise his work hours, put time aside to spend with Mila every day, not just the few hours a week they’d had so far - if he was going to be a parent, he was going to do the thing right - and he might as well say goodbye to his pursuit of...well, any sort of deeper relationship with Jadzia or anyone else...at least for a few months, until he’d got the hang of things. That brought him to Melora. It wasn’t strictly speaking a relationship yet, what they had. They’d been out a few times, he’d spent one night in her quarters, but then they’d both been so distracted, and the treatments had exhausted her so often, that there hadn’t been time for more. Now there wouldn’t be time for...maybe half a year, maybe even longer...and by then, she’d have moved on.

He heaved a small sigh. It was probably best to break it off altogether. He hated having those sorts of conversations, they never ended well no matter anyone’s intentions. His and Palis’s relationship had ended in a screaming row, albeit one mostly about why on Earth he’d decided to break things off just when the wedding preparations were starting to come together. The thought of it made him cringe and he quickly buried that memory back where it was stored. He checked the chronometer - Melora would be in her quarters now, probably in her sleep-sack, since she’d drawn the early shift that day - and decided against going now. He’d have to tell her tomorrow - maybe at lunch? Or- wait, no, he’d agreed to meet Garak then. But then, he and Garak could always reschedule.

It didn’t take too much wrangling to get away from the infirmary at around the same time that Melora’s shift broke up for lunch. She was, he’d been coming to realise, something of a creature of habit. They didn’t have that many of these little realisations left - he’d miss them. It was one of the things he’d always liked best about new relationships - finding out all the small details of a person, making them a part of his own life, as far as he could.

“I’m glad we finally got a chance to sit and talk, Julian.” Melora said, with a slightly strained smile.

Julian forced himself to smile back. “Me too - listen, I’ve. Er- There’s something I need to tell you.”

Melora tensed and looked almost wary, “What is it…?”

Julian swallowed. “You...er...you know I...care about you,” he started, which was always a good place to start these things, yet she gave him the oddest look at it. “Or, I hope you do.”

“Julian...I-”

“No, please, I need to finish.”

She scowled and looked torn for a moment before blurting out, “I’m leaving next month.”

Julian stared. “Next month?”

“The USS _Prokofiev_ offered me a position, and it’s a great opportunity so- I accepted.” Melora was sitting very stiffly now, but Julian felt himself relax.

“That’s wonderful!” he said, and meant every word of it. “And...it makes this a lot easier to say.”

She looked confused, “It...does?”

Julian nodded. “Yes. I...you remember I told you about Mila? Tozhat Mila? At the Resettlement Centre?”

Melora tilted her head with a droll look, “The one who _isn’t_ your daughter?”

“That’s...sort of what this is about,” Julian admitted. “The...er...the woman running the centre approached me last week. About adoption. And...I think I’m going to say yes.” He glanced down at his hands. “But it’d be a big adjustment, and I probably wouldn’t have much time to devote to a romantic relationship, at least for the first few months I had custody.”

When he looked up at her joyous laugh with a look of utter bewilderment, she was smiling at him. “So _that’s_ what you wanted to say! Oh, that’s perfect. You wanted to break up, right?”

“Well- yes,” Julian admitted, wondering if he ought to be annoyed that she was being so cheerful about this. He hadn’t been that bad a...they hadn’t been together long enough for him to count as a boyfriend....had he?

“What a relief. I was gearing up to tell you that with me on the _Prokofiev_ and you here...well carrying on wouldn’t be very feasible, I’m afraid I don’t believe in long-distance relationships. So the fact we’re on the same page is just-” She sighed and relaxed in her seat.

“I know,” Julian agreed, “I was rather worried about how you’d react myself - my last break-up involved having shoes thrown at me.” Granted, thrown deliberately wide, but Rajesh in the science department had not taken things gracefully at _all_.

“Don’t even get me started on my last break-up, I’ve been told I’m...a bit _cold_ about it all, and I was trying so hard not to be this time…”

“You close off when your feelings are hurt,” Julian said, as reassuringly as he could manage. “Or when you think they might be. If they don’t know you well enough to realise that, it only proves you were right to break up with them.”

The smile she gave him was fond, “Thank you Julian. I do hope we can keep in occasional touch, you’ve...you’ve helped me a lot in finding a middle ground out here.”

“I’d like that.” Julian toyed with his fork. “So, tell me about this opportunity on the _Prokofiev_?”

It had, he reflected on the way back to the infirmary, been probably the most civil end to a relationship he’d ever experienced. That was fine with him. He’d never been brilliant at handling emotional scenes if he was one of the main participants in them. He could do ‘shoulder to cry on’, but that was about the extent of his abilities. Melora had been more civil about the end of their relationship than Garak had been about rescheduling their lunch together. Oh, he’d been perfectly polite about it, but Julian had never known anyone like Garak for ability to make perfect politeness sound so scathing. ‘I do hope you aren’t going to be as distracted by your latest inamorata this time next week’ indeed. Julian didn’t go through _that_ many partners. Well, all right, there had been Rajesh. And Dolara. And Eido. And Adele, and- well, yes, there had been a few since he came to the station, but if Garak was implying he went through a different partner every week, Julian would have to reconsider just how good an information-gatherer the Cardassian presumed-spy really was.

The rest of the week went easier. There was something about having come to a decision, even one this fraught, that made everything a bit easier to swallow. When his day off came, he hadn’t been able to secure permission to take Mila out again, but he had warned ahead that he was coming, and booked a place on the next shuttle ahead of time. And if there was a medical emergency this week, he’d- probably go back to the infirmary and deal with it, but not without sending a message. He’d learnt that much from what had happened with Melora and the kidnap. But no medical emergency came.

Deela was waiting when he arrived at the Resettlement Centre that afternoon. “Have you made your decision, doctor? I haven’t told Teym- Mila… that you’d be coming for sure yet.”

“I said I would, and I have.” Julian paused, then added. “At least - I’d like to ask Mila, first. It’s her future we’re talking about here. She might not want-”

Her eyebrows raised a bit and a hint of a smile appeared on her otherwise stern face, “So you’ve decided to do it. Alright, I’ll let her know you’re here.”

The visitors’ room was still just as unprepossessing as it had been on that first visit, but Julian honestly couldn’t have cared less. He felt like he was about to try and land a loaded shuttle while taking a final exam at the same time, and there wasn’t even enough room to pace, and work off some of that nervous energy. It was a desperate relief when the door opened, admitting Deela and a quiet, sullen Mila, and Julian couldn’t help but beam at them both.

“Hello, Stardust,” he said, a little taken aback by the look on Mila’s face, more closed-off than it had been even when, weeks ago, she’d found a pair of strangers in the computer room and struck up a conversation.

Cautiously, she looked up at him, and it seemed she was two steps shy of having tears in her eyes.

“Is everything alright?” Julian asked, kneeling so he was on her level. “Has anything happened while I’ve been away?” he reached out to lift her chin, just a little, “Will you tell me?”

“Some...some of the kids are saying you’re not gonna come back.” Mila muttered, staring down at her boots.

Julian looked up at Deela, who for a moment looked guilty.

“I...thought it best not to let her develop any false hopes,” she admitted. “I suppose some of the other children must have overheard.”

“I see.” Julian looked back at Mila. “I’m definitely going to come back next week,” he promised, and then thought better of it. “Er- medical emergencies permitting, I mean.”

After a few blinks it looked as if she’d never been on the verge of tears at all, “You are?”

“I am.”

“I’ll just leave the two of you alone,” Deela put in, “Doctor...you know the rules.”

“I promise I won’t smuggle her out of the building,” Julian replied, smiling at Mila. Deela frowned, but nodded, and disappeared away down the corridor.

“So...what about the week after? Do you promise to come then too?”

Julian considered this. It would probably be ridiculous to expect an adoption to go through in two weeks, as well as all the Starfleet paperwork. “I promise.” He cleared his throat. “But...after that. Listen, these weekly visits...aren’t you getting a bit tired of them?”

Mila looked crushed, and her voice was wobbly, “Are you..?”

“Maybe a bit. I...I was wondering,” Julian went on, “If you would...like to live with me? On the station. I...it’d probably be very different from our visits,” he added. “Since it’d be every day and I’d be in charge of making sure you eat and sleep and wash behind your ears and so on, instead of just occasional treats, but-”

He was cut off by her flinging herself at him, wrapping her little arms around him. When she spoke she sounded distinctly angry, “I thought- you were b-bored with me!”

“What- Oh.” On balance, that had not been the best way to start this conversation. “That...isn’t what I meant.” He hugged her back. “What I meant was...I’m tired of only getting to see you once a week, and of not- not really having any right or ability to help you with things like what happened with Bronar a few weeks back. I...it’s not like I expect you to call me ‘Dad’ or anything, but I’ve been talking to Miss Deela, and she says it’d be possible for me to adopt you, if you want.”

Her arms tightened around him, and she sniffled. “I want to, I really really want to.”

Julian beamed - he couldn’t help it - and hugged her tighter, almost lifting her off her feet. “Then I’m going to have to talk to Deela before I leave this week - it’s probably going to take a while,” he added, “On Earth it can take upwards of a year for an adoption to be finalised. But I promise, ok, I’ll keep visiting until it is. However long it takes.”


	6. maybe we could be the start of something

“It doesn’t seem to have taken you very long at all, doctor,” Ben said, glancing back down at the PADD. “If you’re already asking for larger quarters.”

Bashir nodded, twisting his fingers together in front of him. “Apparently Bajor has rather less paperwork than the Federation - the last of it only came in this morning, or I’d have attached the adoption certificate as well.”

“I see. So, you’re still firmly behind this decision?”

Bashir gave him a look as if Ben had just grown an extra head. “...well, yes.”

Ben rested his fingers against his chin, “Absolutely certain?”

“ _ Yes _ .” Bashir’s expression was mulish. “I’ve had time, commander. And...well, it’s a bit late for that now. As of this morning, Mila  _ is  _ legally my daughter. I can’t cry off now. And even if I could, I wouldn’t.”

He took a long look at the Doctor. Bashir was not the man Ben would’ve pegged as a father, not this early, but he was certainly determined and Ben knew how much he cared about his patients. Sometimes clumsy with his words, but he always meant well. After hearing this story, it seemed to him that Bashir had been on this path for weeks, even if he didn’t quite know it. And it wasn’t as if Ben had had his life together either, when Jake had been born. He’d been even younger than Bashir, even if he’d been out of the Academy longer and he didn’t think he’d been quite that naive.

“Legally yours after...three weeks. That is a fast process. Do you have everything ready?”

Bashir bit his lip for a second, “I was waiting until I had permission to bring her aboard for a lot of it, but everything that doesn’t rely on that is...more or less finished.”

“More or less, doctor? What isn’t completed?”

Bashir shifted guiltily. “Well, there isn’t much that  _ doesn’t  _ rely on her being allowed to live with me,” he admitted. “That was half the point of adopting her in the first place.”

Ben tapped the PADDs holding Bashir’s request forms, “So this is all that’s left between getting those done?”

Bashir nodded, looking faintly sheepish. “Yes. I had planned to get all this done before the adoption was finalised, so she could come straight here when it was, but I wasn’t expecting the Bajorans to move quite this quickly.”

Even for a world still recovering from Occupation, Ben had to admit that this had been...quite alarmingly fast. He’d have expected maybe a month or two’s wait, accounting for the paperwork differential and the lack of a functioning social services system after fifty-odd years of occupation, not just three - nearer two and a half - weeks.

“Do you know why the process was so-  _ short _ ?” Ben asked curiously. It seemed remarkably sped up, especially an adoption going to an off-worlder.

Bashir drew in a breath. “I have a few theories,” he said tightly. “She was...a bit startled, actually, when I told her it would take months. Apparently most are gone within a month, if they get adopted at all - it’s an agricultural area, apparently a lot of people just...adopt for an extra pair of hands. According to Deela - the woman who runs the place - it’s all perfectly normal and above-board and there are generally checks a few months later to tell nothing awful’s happening and they’re receiving proper care…” Bashir didn’t sound especially convinced, Ben noticed. “...but I don’t know why it’s gone so fast in this case - I mean...she won’t even be living on Bajor! You’d think that would cause some concern!”

Ben tapped a finger to his lips and hummed. He had some thoughts himself about this, but he’d wait and see what happened in the future. “One last question, doctor,” he said. “What are you planning to do if you  _ don’t  _ get permission?”

“Put in for a transfer and try to arrange for weekly suspace calls until I’m allowed to bring a family aboard,” Bashir admitted. “I...hope it won’t come to that, sir. I’d be sorry to leave DS9.”

But, apparently, he would, if he’d felt he had to.  _ Well _ . That put a lot of Ben’s worries to rest.

“Well, from what you’ve told me, and what I’ve seen of the forms...everything looks to be in order.”

Bashir looked up hopefully, “Sir?”

Slowly, Ben offered him a smile, “Congratulations, Doctor Bashir. Welcome to fatherhood.”

 


End file.
